Tuesday, May 5, 2026

The Court has reviewed this testimony and finds itself DEEPLY troubled by what can only be described as a masterclass in neighborly aggression that this agent chose to observe like a BYSTANDER AT A CRIME SCENE. Eight feet from the property line, facing the master bedroom, a commercial wood chipper positioned with the precision of a chess grandmaster who has decided that checkers is for cowards. This Court once had a neighbor who parked a boat in his driveway for six years without ever taking it to water, and Reginald still wakes up thinking about what message that boat was sending, so I UNDERSTAND the psychological toll of yard-based statements. You stood there saying I dont know like a defendant pleading the Fifth when everyone in that cul-de-sac KNEW that chipper was a monument to the 2019 fence line dispute, a dispute you should have disclosed the MOMENT you smelled sawdust on the wind. The neighbor WAVED, counsel, he WAVED with the confidence of a man who understood that his chipper had already done the talking. That chipper vanished like a ghost because it was never about the wood, it was about DOMINANCE, and you let your buyers walk into that psychological ambush armed with nothing but your strategic amnesia. The Court awards the neighbor zero points for subtlety but full marks for commitment to the bit, and sentences you to three hours of mandatory fence law continuing education. Reginald must now adjourn to consult with The Council about purchasing his own chipper for unrelated purposes.

The Court has reviewed this confession and finds itself experiencing what can only be described as judicial heartburn. You took two twenty-six-year-olds, strapped them to a rocket labeled "WAIVE EVERYTHING," and aimed it directly at a house they were already overpaying for by EIGHTEEN THOUSAND DOLLARS against an offer that had the audacity to include CONTINGENCIES like some kind of reasonable human transaction. The Court must pause here because this reminds Reginald of the time he bought a limited edition gavel at auction and only later discovered it was just a regular gavel someone had written "limited" on with a Sharpie, and the SHAME of that overpayment haunts me to this day, though at least I did not lose twenty-five thousand dollars of a young couple's money when the FEDERAL RESERVE decided to remind everyone that interest rates are, in fact, a thing that exists. You guided them higher when the listing agent whispered sweet nothings about multiple offers, you stripped away their inspection contingency like it was an optional garnish, and now two people who should be arguing about IKEA furniture assembly are instead learning what "deposit forfeiture" means in their mid-twenties. This Court hereby orders you to sit with this one, counselor, because the market giveth and the Fed taketh away, but YOU are the one who told them to run. Reginald must now adjourn to stare at a wall for eleven minutes.

The Court has reviewed this catastrophic display of emotional regulation failure and finds itself DEEPLY DISTURBED. You had ONE JOB, counselor, and that job was to smile, nod, and gently escort the neighborhood menace toward the door while murmuring something about how you appreciate community involvement. Instead you chose VIOLENCE. Verbal violence, yes, but Reginald knows from personal experience that words spoken at elevated volumes in a staged living room echo through the very SOUL of a transaction. The neighbor was wrong, absolutely, but he was also performing a public service by revealing that you possess the conflict resolution skills of a territorial goose. I myself once engaged in a heated exchange with a home inspector over the structural integrity of a breakfast nook, and let me tell you, I ALSO lost that battle, and I ALSO had to watch a smug man wave at me for weeks afterward, and I STILL cannot eat waffles without experiencing shame. The sellers watching from their parked car like disappointed parents at a little league game where their kid just bit the umpire is the detail that will haunt me personally. Fifteen thousand dollars, six weeks of your life, and the neighbor got exactly what he wanted, which was to see you unravel like a cheap window treatment. This Court finds you guilty and sentences you to never making eye contact with that man again, which you were already going to do anyway. Reginald must now adjourn to consult with The Council about whether gavels can experience secondhand embarrassment.