The world is doomed.
Alien: We come from a dying planet bilions of parsecs away, having ridden the solar winds--
EE: Whoa, whoa. That's backstory. Get right to it.
Aliean: We're taking over your planet unless you give us some reason to spare you.
EE: No, no, no. You're telling, not showing.
Alien: But how else--
EE (yawns): Besides, it's been done. You're just little green men.
Alien (bristling): I suppose our skin tone may be reflect a frequency of light consistent with your color "green," yes.
EE: That's it? Plain old aliens. You couldn't be vampires?
Alien: Uh, no.
EE: Middle school zombies? Werewolf swordsmen? Blood sucking telepathic moles? At least tell me you practice some kind of magic.
Alien: We have laser guns. And a spaceship.
EE: Pfft. Good luck getting out of the slush pile.
On the bright side, there were no more James Frey novels after the great KaBoom.