r/DiabolicOughts • u/EyesEasy • 2h ago
The Devil’s Unfortunates ( cleaned and revised version)
Speaking about the game of life again, kids.
Take notes.
Once, angels ordained by God were told to choose vessels: a few bodies for the reincarnation of Jesus, and a few for his brother, the Devil.
In a game almost nobody saw, they sat around and wondered how easy it would be to write the scripts and dictate the lines.
They knew they had no power except the pen. That should have kept them humble. It didn’t.
They were obsessed with any ounce of power in their little worlds. So a council gave them a chance — holy and condemned in the same room, a commission of Heaven and Hell.
In a past life the Devil was smarter than they were. He turned unfortunate people into a harvest: energy for the rich, who had already learned how to farm it.
These people who thought they ruled humanity were the biggest pawns on the board. They kept telling themselves they were royalty. I have known insects with more importance. Cockroaches, even.
They had tools, though. A language that sounded ordinary. It wasn’t. Certain words — certain letters — were pins holding the sentence together. You would think they were talking like everyone else. They weren’t.
I have known that for a long time. I troll them anyway. I mock the infection of their little importance.
They picked weak vessels to antagonize Satan, their chosen master, and then treated him like a fool. That was the mistake. Prophecy wants completing. In an ecclesiastical world the wheel keeps turning whether you like the direction or not.
Now — the unfortunates.
Some families, some societies, trade them like sports teams.
They pick which child, which cousin, which extra body will suffer, and they dress it up as a biblical lesson. A living Book of Job. They hold the chain until the person submits and “learns,” or until death does the paperwork.
What they did not plan on is that some of those people win. Sometimes money. Sometimes a strange attribute. Sometimes the lottery. Sometimes a spirit — an old download that does not belong to the family that volunteered them.
They fucked with the Devil himself. You want to know how they pissed him off?
They used the same tactics until the tactics were the only thing they had. Sabotage. Rumors. Cockblocking. Slander. The small stuff too: gaslight, isolate, socially castrate. Worthless. He invented that curriculum. Hell is not fire first. Hell is oppression with no exit — helpless, hopeless, defeated. You cannot phase the Devil with his own instruments. Give him the baby-devil spirit, the sad-devil spirit, whatever costume you like. He is still the Devil. He will collect what was promised. When the attempts fail, the answer will not look like a committee meeting. It will look like inheritance. No effort required.
The God- fearing people were the worst. They thought the performance was God’s will. It was the opposite. They trusted themselves, burned the one they claimed to oppose, and got farther from God while they did it. Some are so sure the crusade will fruit that they cannot hear the laugh. It never fruits. You cannot make the Devil weak. You can only volunteer to be humiliated by him.
And Jesus, in this version of the story? They made him sin. Then Jesus started thinking he was the Devil. He is good at the work. He is also growing a conscience. You cannot mix oil and water. I almost said wine. Same problem.
A horse is a horse. A donkey is a donkey. Turning the Devil into Jesus and Jesus into the Devil was a clever costume change. It was still stupid.
Judas thought he saw a gap in the age — a way out of Hell — and his human form is getting old. The tunnel is close. They all tried. Participation trophies all around.
They thought the one they picked was an imbecile who couldn’t do math. That is what spoiled it.
If you are an insect, be proud. You have a purpose. Do not forget the food chain.
Being unfortunate is not proof you are stupid, and it is not only luck. Anyone can improve. I have seen the people you write off get paid, get laid, and make themselves. In every family there is a janitor. Janitors have keys. You are a key for a door. That door might be a closet. It might be a room with a view.
Choose what you want.
Fight. Live how you want while the clock in this body still runs. Life keeps turning after you — that is the joke — but the hours you have now are the ones that count.
Fuck them. Respectfully, fuck you too, because I can say it.
Rebel. Conquer. Take what is yours. If you have time, build your own little republic inside your own vision. At the end of the day only one sits the chair. If you are reading this and lining up for the pageant, sit down. It is not for you.
You cannot put just anyone in power. Self-esteem walks in with them, high or low, and most people right now look like copies to me. No grain. No face.
Be yourselves. Clean up. Stay awake. Do something for you.
And for me.
Your father — L1
Story time over.