The life of an amateur tempter demon is not all the "glitz" and "glam" it's cracked up to be. The human race can be a tricky bunch, as we've seen in poor Wormwood's letters to his uncle ScrewTape regarding the trials of working his way up in the ranks. A similar pattern resurfaces in WormWood's nephew, LankScribble.

Most terrible Uncle WormWood,

    It is in these dire times that I regrettably resort to seeking out your aid. Alas, I am at my wits end with this meat-bag! I have poked and prodded at his innermost insecurities, but to no avail! In the beginning of our experiments, my temptations had gone off without a hitch! Petty things, small taboos just to get the blood flowing. Without so much as a second thought he was swayed to pilfer a package right from the neighbor's doorstep! Of course, it didn't hurt that they were away in Bora-Bora at the time... They were practically begging for it! 

    The point here is that meat-bag showed promise, and in a way I suppose he continues to do so. In one of my most recent temptations I had convinced him that setting fire to his abode to collect on the insurance was the most brilliant idea he had ever conceived, so we left the stove on and went out to a party with an old flame (another temptation imparted by yours truly, I assure you meat-bag's fiancé is less than pleased). Here, dear uncle, is where things take a tricky turn it seems. He returned home that evening with that smug toothy grin the fleshy ones sport when they feel as though they've "gotten away with something naughty."

    When we arrived, the house had been successfully reduced to a pile of molten ash, record collection, family albums, cat and all. Suffice to say, we were both proud of a day well spent, that was until the man in blue slapped those cold metal bracers on his wrist. Arson, they called it. I knew this was a risk going into it, and typically, incarceration would be marked a success in my book! But it seems they find ol' meat-bag to be one of those special "disturbed" cases and instead they've sent him to rehabilitation! The more meat-bag talks to these self proclaimed specialists, the less it seems my influence gets through to him! Slowly they seem to be reforming him, making him an "upstanding citizen" of sorts and effectively negating everything I've worked for from petty crime to adutery and felony. I had only ever intended to improve his meager existence through vanity and sin in hopes of leading him to your less than tender embrace, I would have never imagined it to end up like this! Either I misstepped on that last temptation, or there's some foul play from the boys upstairs at work. Either way, something is amiss.
  
 How does one recover from such a setback Uncle?

Most affectionately,

LankScribble