In this ring are the suicides who are transformed into gnalry trees and bushes. The Harpy feeds on the bushes. Unique among the patrons of Summers, the suicides will not be resurrected after Joe's final judgement, having given away their souls through violence to the self because The Harpy was on break and didn't bring them a beer for what seemed like an eternity or because they had to listen to the piped-in music or the electric rumbero beats.
The other residents of this ring are the profligates who destroyed their lives by destroying the means by which their lives at Summers are sustained.
In a simple twist of fate, I am being chased by a ferocious dog through the thorny undergrowth because I write snide comments about the very place I go to drink beer.
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