Wednesday, May 13, 2026

The Court is APOPLECTIC. Reginald has seen some things in his years on this bench — agents who measure closets "generously," agents who describe mold as "character" — but THIS. A house balanced on LOOSE CINDER BLOCKS like some kind of hillside Jenga experiment, and Karen over here citing "incident-free years" as if gravity operates on a loyalty rewards program. The Court reminds counsel that the Titanic had an incident-free record RIGHT UP UNTIL THE INCIDENT. This is not a foundation, this is a SUGGESTION. This is architectural optimism. I once ruled against my own nephew for building a treehouse without permits and I will NOT show more mercy to a structure that could toboggan into the neighbor's yard during a firm sneeze. The inspector laughed, Your Honor notes — LAUGHED — because sometimes the only appropriate response to discovering a home is held together by vibes and accumulated luck is to laugh directly into the void. The wife asking "is that bad" will haunt Reginald's dreams, right next to the recurring nightmare about the barn door incident at that Scottsdale listing. The Court finds Karen's defense legally equivalent to saying "well the lion hasn't eaten anyone YET" and hereby orders all parties to touch grass, specifically grass that is attached to ACTUAL EARTH with a REAL FOUNDATION beneath it. Reginald must now go lie down.

The Court has reviewed this timeline with the same horrified fascination one reserves for watching a man try to parallel park for eleven minutes. Let Reginald be perfectly clear — when a buyer asks if the seller will ROTATE THE HOUSE, that is not a question, that is a psychiatric evaluation disguised as a text message. You showed this man SIX MORE HOUSES after he forfeited fifteen thousand dollars because a building had the audacity to face the wrong direction? The Court once refused to date someone because they hung their toilet paper the wrong way, so I understand commitment to principle, but I did not then spend the next three months asking them to dinner while inquiring about their bathroom fixtures. You have enabled a man whose feng shui consultant has veto power over five-figure financial decisions, and now you sit here calling his obsessive orientation questions GROWTH as if he is a therapy patient and not simply a compass with a pre-approval letter. This Court finds you guilty of mistaking chaos for clientele and sentences you to immediately block his number, though we both know you will not because somewhere deep inside you believe the seventh house will be different. THE COURT HAS SPOKEN AND MUST NOW CONSULT ITS OWN FENG SHUI ADVISOR ABOUT WHETHER THIS BENCH FACES THE CORRECT DIRECTION FOR RENDERING JUDGMENT.

The Court has reviewed this confession and finds itself PHYSICALLY ILL at the sequence of events described herein. You walked that property SIX TIMES and heard nothing, which means either those chickens are running a sophisticated silence operation or you have the situational awareness of a decorative throw pillow. But let us be clear about the REAL crime here: you paid for someone else's appraisal out of pocket because they were crying. CRYING. Reginald once cried for eleven minutes after losing a bidding war on a vintage gavel and nobody paid for ANYTHING on his behalf. The buyer objects to the CONCEPT of chickens, the philosophical EXISTENCE of nearby fowl, and somehow YOU are the one defending calm poultry to strangers while your commission dissolves like an Alka-Seltzer tablet in the toilet of broken dreams. This Court cites the landmark decision in Henderson v. One Suspiciously Quiet Rooster, 2019, which established that an agent cannot be held liable for livestock they did not hear, smell, or witness performing any chicken-related activities. However, you ARE guilty of terminal niceness, a condition that has cost you approximately fourteen thousand dollars plus eight hundred dollars plus whatever dignity remained after you described these birds as seeming calm. The Court awards you nothing, demands the chickens be called as witnesses in the earnest money dispute, and announces that Reginald must now leave because this ruling has given him a migraine and he needs to go yell at his Roomba.