Judgmental

We looked along the trench, which Faulkner assured me would not be as bad as the Alcoholics, and I was greeted with the sight of mutilated people staggering around. Scattered throughout the souls were demons with giant swords and pitchforks, stabbing people in various places. "This is where judgmental people end up. The ones who categorize others by their weight, looks, breast size, whatever. The demons spot one of them and then slash them up in embarrassing places so that they feel awkward. Then they all walk around judging each other, thinking that somehow having a giant hole in your crotch isn't nearly as pathetic as having a giant hole in your chest. Since they based their lives on purely superficial standards, they get to live that way for eternity. Except instead of appearance it's based on which method of torture the demons inflict on you. I'm not even sure how the logic works, but you know, Hell and all that." We hurried on, not wanting to draw the attention of anymore demons. We walked for several hours along the rocky valley, with no more sign of trenches or sinners in sight. "Where are we going?" I asked. "To the middle of nowhere," Faulkner answered.