Lagos, Nigeria — The devil, as they say, is in the details. And in 2024, the details were printed on a gold-trimmed black invitation to the Annual Demon Awards, held this year not in Las Vegas or Vatican catacombs, but at the most unexpected venue yet: the Eko Convention Centre in Lagos, Nigeria.
Sponsored by Lucifer Unlimited Inc., the event brought together the who’s-who of Hell’s high society to reward the most industrious demons for their tireless work undermining the Ten Commandments — and in a hotly contested category this year, “Best Suppression of ‘Love Thy Neighbour.’”
The host? None other than Mephistopheles with the Mic.
And the protagonist of this story? Frank Adeche, a 42-year-old atheist Uber driver from Oshodi who accidentally received a VIP invitation after mistyping his Gmail password as “GODisDEAD123.”
Act 1: The Devil Wears Gucci
Frank had never believed in heaven or hell. “Religion na scam,” he often said, especially after giving rides to pastors in convoys longer than weddings. So when he received an invite with shimmering letters reading “THE 2024 DEMON AWARDS – CELEBRATING SPIRITUAL SABOTAGE WORLDWIDE”, he assumed it was an art exhibit… or a Nollywood comedy audition.
He wore jeans, a T-shirt that read “In Doubt We Trust,” and arrived five hours late because of Lagos traffic — and Satan’s team took that personally. “You think I caused the Apapa gridlock just for fun?” Satan snarled from the stage later. “That’s demon category material, man!”
Act 2: The Ceremony
As Frank walked in, he realized this wasn’t a joke.
The red carpet was literal burning charcoal, lined with reporters from Infernal Times and Lucifer Lifestyle Magazine.
The hall glittered in inverted crosses, Baphomet-shaped chandeliers, and gold-plated portraits of misbehaving televangelists. At the center, Satan himself — decked in a shimmering three-piece suit tailored by Hell’s top designer, Diorabolique — addressed the audience of hissing demons, corrupt spirits, and several popular megachurch founders.
“This year,” he began, “we saw tremendous progress. Lies dressed as sermons, prophets selling fake prophecies at premium rates, hate disguised as holiness — our KPI is off the charts!”
The crowd roared. One demon whistled through a flaming pitchfork. Another adjusted his Rolex (still ticking after the rapture).
Act 3: The Categories
Best Demon in Commandment Erosion went to D-Breakah, the demon responsible for inspiring millions to normalize adultery as “soft life.” He thanked Instagram for their algorithmic partnership.
Best Deception in a Religious Setting was won by Pastor Façade, a Lagos-based televangelist who accepted the award while livestreaming it to his 10 million followers with the caption: “God has done it again! Seed sowing time!!!”
In a surprising moment, the “Global Hypocrisy Award” was shared between two megachurch pastors — one from Houston, Texas, and one from Abuja — both secretly employees of the Department of Doctrinal Distortion, a shadowy unit in Hell’s bureaucracy.
Most Successful Hatred Campaign Masquerading as Doctrine went to a demon named Lil’ Bias, who proudly accepted the trophy while shouting, “Love thy neighbour? In this economy???”
Act 4: Frank Blows His Cover
Frank sat in stunned silence.
He watched Satan deliver a monologue about how “Love thy neighbour” had become an outdated meme, thanks to religious tribalism, online rage, and Christians who only love fellow Christians who tithe.
He saw demons high-fiving popular worship leaders. He saw prosperity gospel preachers being congratulated for “confusing poor people into praising poverty while sowing into private jets.”
Then, by instinct — maybe divine intervention — Frank stood up and shouted:
“Wait… this is real? You’re all really the bad guys?!”
The room froze.
Satan adjusted his tie and peered at Frank.
“Who let the atheist in?”
Frank replied, “Well… I believed in nothing. But now that I’ve seen this—what the hell is this?!”
“Exactly,” said Satan, smirking. “Hell is this.”
Act 5: Exit Stage Redemption?
The demons began to circle Frank, but before they could drag him into the “VIP Repentance Furnace,” a voice boomed from above:
“He may have believed in nothing. But he stood for truth.”
Light cracked through the ceiling. The chandelier exploded. One of the demons hissed, “Ugh, not Him again.”
Frank vanished — and woke up in his Uber, sweating, heart pounding, parked outside a Lagos church where a crusade was about to start. On the banner: “Love Your Neighbour As Yourself – Matt. 22:39”
He looked at the sky.
Then at his hands.
Then at the open Bible a stranger had left in his car.
He whispered, “Okay… I believe now. I really, really do.”
Epilogue: Satan’s Debrief
Back in Hell, Satan sighed.
“Next year,” he said, lighting a cigar with the Book of Leviticus, “no more invites to Nigerians who don’t believe in anything. They always ruin the vibe.”
Moral?
Whether you believe in heaven, hell, or neither — if Lagos is hosting, even demons should expect unexpected power cuts.
By: Someone Who Probably Won’t Be Invited to Church This Sunday
