I am currently rereading C.S. Lewis' The Screwtape Letters, in which Screwtape, an upper level demon, instructs his nephew Wormwood on the finer points of temptation. It is an interesting premise, realized beautifully, but as I've been told before, I'm no C.S. Lewis. I couldn't figure out how to tempt a human soul to depravity. But it would be fun to create a lower level demon, let's call him Tapeworm, and think of ways to tempt humans to less egregious sins.
Letter #1
Dear Hardwood,
Your last letter has left me sorely despairing the future of the demonic realms. You leave so many opportunities for temptation unexploited. Did your patient not gaze with lust on the eclair in the company refrigerator? Was he not impressed by the vacancy of the break room? Why did he not eat his co-worker's tasty treat? Could it be that you, at that very moment, had your horns stuck in the oven on the 3rd ring? Perhaps you missed your chance to lead your man astray because you were poaching MY BAKED ALASKA! In the future, dear Hardwood, keep your mitts off because you are tempting me to KICK YOUR ASS.
Your devoted uncle,
Tapeworm
Letter #1
Dear Hardwood,
Your last letter has left me sorely despairing the future of the demonic realms. You leave so many opportunities for temptation unexploited. Did your patient not gaze with lust on the eclair in the company refrigerator? Was he not impressed by the vacancy of the break room? Why did he not eat his co-worker's tasty treat? Could it be that you, at that very moment, had your horns stuck in the oven on the 3rd ring? Perhaps you missed your chance to lead your man astray because you were poaching MY BAKED ALASKA! In the future, dear Hardwood, keep your mitts off because you are tempting me to KICK YOUR ASS.
Your devoted uncle,
Tapeworm
Labels: Baked Alaska, C.S. Lewis, venial sin
posted by Jean Luc Petard at
7:52 PM
1 Comments:
Here's how I would tempt folks toward venial sin, were I a woman: (said to a man): "I've got boobs."
I've got to be honest, however, I might pass up the chance to have hours of incredible gymnastic sex with an impossibly beautiful demon woman (Cheryl Tiegs?) to eat some Baked Alaska (which part of "fat man" do I wish to bow to?). That may be the greatest dessert ever, certainly far better than eclairs, which are indescribably delicious in Paris, but little better than a Lil' Debbie confection anywhere else.
And I have never read another C.S. Lewis book since halfway through the first Narnia book, when I realized the whole thing was about f-ing Jesus. I may have been 11, but I wasn't stupid, and any kid who WANTS to learn about Jesus at that age is freaking weird. No exceptions. I threw it down and grabbed a Mark Twain book instead, which says a lot about who I am to this day.
By
paperback reader, at 9:57 PM
Post a Comment
<< Home