“The end is nigh!” they bleat and mewl.
Filling their flocks with misguided, hopeful fools. Their studied piety is only overshadowed by exhortations to send more money. It’s God’s will, of course.
“Money is sinful!” they claim, unless it’s put to a higher cause. He is their shepherd, and they are His accountants.
Charlatans, each and every one. For when they are alone in a back alley with just me and my knife, they recant and beg for their miserable lives with their liars’ tongues.
Killing them may be a sin, but I make a good profit from slaying bad prophets.