Wednesday, April 29, 2026

The Court has reviewed this confession and finds itself PHYSICALLY ILL at the audacity of a man who waved around a revoked power of attorney like it was still valid currency, which it was NOT, much like the Blockbuster gift card Reginald still carries in his wallet for reasons he will not discuss with this tribunal. Six weeks you worked with this man, SIX WEEKS of him invoking his sister in assisted living like some kind of sympathy talisman while knowing full well his POA had been legally euthanized in 2019, and yet YOU, the agent, never thought to verify authority to sell before accepting a listing agreement, a failure so profound that The Court must pause to collect itself. The daughter's weary resignation that "my uncle does this every couple years" suggests a pattern of behavior that should have its own Wikipedia page, and frankly the fact that she has changed the locks TWICE indicates this family has been running an unauthorized real estate obstacle course across the Phoenix metropolitan area. You let a man with the legal authority of a decorative yard flamingo negotiate a price down to $485,000 while buyers scheduled MOVERS, and for this The Court sentences you to the eternal knowledge that somewhere in Arizona, a tired woman is already preparing for her uncle's next attempt. Reginald must now go lie down because this ruling has activated his sciatica.

The Court has witnessed many things in its years on this bench, but NEVER has Reginald beheld such a flagrant attempt to swap real property for dining room accessories. This seller attempted what legal scholars call "The Old Switcheroo" — a maneuver so brazen it was explicitly outlawed in Ethan Allen v. The Concept of Object Permanence, 2019. Three hours before closing, with buyers already assembled like hostages at a title company, this woman had the AUDACITY to propose that a twelve-thousand-dollar Italian table could somehow replace a HOUSE, as if square footage and marinara seasoning are interchangeable units of value. The Court must pause here to note that Reginald himself once became unreasonably attached to a breakfast nook, so there is SOME understanding of doorframe grief, but that is IRRELEVANT and the bailiff will strike it from the record. You, the agent, were forced to utter the phrase "she wants to sell them a table instead of a house" to a COLLEAGUE, which constitutes professional humiliation of the highest order. The crying was expected — the touching of doorframes was THEATRICAL — and the four-hour delay was simply the universe punishing everyone present for this woman's inability to distinguish between furniture and SHELTER. The Court finds the confession valid, the agent absolved, and Reginald must now go lie down because this ruling has given him a migraine shaped like a dining table.

The Court has reviewed the timeline submitted and finds it DAMNING in its precision yet WOEFULLY INADEQUATE in its preventive measures. You arrived at 2pm, you turned on lights, but did you SNIFF, counselor? DID YOU SNIFF? The nose knows, and YOUR nose apparently took Thursday off. Reginald once lost a showing because a seller left a single unwashed dish in the sink, and I can STILL taste that humiliation, so imagine my HORROR at the discovery of what can only be described as a feline fatality in the forgotten zone. The mother's screaming was legally justified under the precedent established in Deceased Pet v. Unsuspecting Buyers, 2019, wherein the Court ruled that ALL BASEMENT DOORS must be approached with the caution one reserves for a storage unit auction on basic cable. You claim the listing agent mentioned nothing about a cat, but The Court asks: did you ASK? Did you submit the Seventeen Point Pet Verification Checklist that I personally invented just now and am retroactively requiring? The seller forgot about the cat, the listing agent forgot to answer, and YOU forgot that real estate is a BLOOD SPORT where the unprepared are devoured by circumstance and also apparently by the smell of a three-day deceased tabby. This Court finds your timeline meticulous but your nostrils negligent, and Reginald must now go feed his own cat immediately.