Imagine you are a salesman of, oh, say, something boring like nuts and bolts and screws. Imagine your territory is some huge desolate area of eastern Montana, and you do more driving between your far-flug stops than selling. And you got nuttin’ to do between stops but drive and listen to talk radio all night, especially some DJ who specializes in talk of the weird, the absurd, the paranormal.
OK, now imagine that you fall, in your sweet nerdy way, for a lady who makes the most delicious rhubarb pie on the planet. Then she disappears.
Now imagine that aliens, driving 18-wheelers, also like rhubarb pie. And come roaring through a portal in the mountain pass to get some. And want the recipe.
OK. Now we are straining your imagination, right? But, hey! Is it so implausible to believe that rhubarb pied could make aliens’ hearts (or gizards or whatever they use for insides) go all a-flutter?
A comic paranormal tale told in the most serious way. It is a hoot. There is something gently touching about aliens who love rhubarb pie and will kill to get it. Isn’t there?