Stephen King’s imagination is like a conveyor belt endlessly churning out disturbing tales of small-town nightmares, homicidal inanimate objects, and aliens that exit through buttholes (WTF, Dreamcatcher?). The author’s latest novel, Revival (in bookstores tomorrow), about a malevolent minister, again makes you wonder: Where does King get his ideas? He swears they’re not the product of a screwed-up childhood, which means they’re probably the product of a screwed-up childhood. A little something like this.