This court has witnessed many crimes against the sacred art of real estate, but EATING THE TOMATO crosses a line that Judge Escrow did not know existed until this very moment. You spent weeks enduring what can only be described as emotional waterboarding by a woman who treated a birdbath like the Hanging Gardens of Babylon, and your reward was a single piece of fruit that you CONSUMED like some kind of grateful peasant. The forty-three inspection texts alone constitute a form of psychological warfare banned by the Geneva Convention, yet here you are, digesting the evidence of your own captivity and calling it "pretty good." This court notes that you successfully talked a grown woman off a cosmic ledge involving the UNIVERSE ITSELF abandoning her home sale, a feat that should qualify you for either sainthood or intensive therapy. The fact that buyers were "sprinting to their cars" suggests you were not selling a home but rather managing an escape room with aggressive narration. Judge Escrow must adjourn immediately as he is suddenly very concerned about whether his own walls are being treated gently.