Saturday, August 8, 2026

The Court has reviewed this confession and must now lie down, though Reginald does not have a fainting couch in chambers because the BUDGET COMMITTEE said it was unnecessary, and yet HERE WE ARE. Six weeks. SIX WEEKS. Over a tree that, according to your own testimony, REMAINS STANDING TO THIS DAY, unmolested, unbothered, continuing its forty-year photosynthetic career while you aged visibly. The Court finds it deeply troubling that a licensed professional witnessed two adults negotiate for A MONTH over three thousand dollars, which is, for the record, less than I spent last year on gavel maintenance, and yet you failed to intervene with the only appropriate response: locking them both in the breakfast nook until they developed object permanence. In the landmark case of Sunlight v. That One Buyer Who Definitely Also Complains About Restaurant Lighting, 2019, the Court established that anyone who uses the phrase quote blocks the afternoon light unquote should be automatically assigned a therapist, not a real estate transaction. I once lost a friendship over crown molding, so I understand the stakes here, but at least crown molding is INSIDE THE HOUSE. The tree remains. The chaos was manufactured. The Court sentences you to one full year of only showing properties with north-facing breakfast nooks, and also I must leave immediately because Order just bumped into the witness stand and I need to restore courtroom dignity.

The Court has reviewed this confession and finds itself PHYSICALLY ILL at the sheer governmental incompetence on display here, though let the record reflect that the agent is somehow ALSO guilty for not anticipating that a county office would operate like a time loop designed by Kafka. This Court once waited nine hours at a DMV only to be told my number had been called while I was in the restroom, and I emerged from that experience a CHANGED and more suspicious man, so do not speak to Reginald of bureaucratic suffering as though he does not KNOW. You drove to the county office like some kind of optimist, which frankly shows poor judgment, and the fact that a WATER HEATER permit destroyed a four hundred thousand dollar transaction is so cosmically absurd that The Court must assume the universe itself has retained counsel against you. In re: That One Permit Nobody Could Find, 2019, this Court established that any document older than three years existing only in a crashed portal is legally equivalent to a rumor, and you should have treated it as such. The woman who told you to try the online portal after you explained the online portal was down should be hauled before this bench IMMEDIATELY, but since she is not present, you shall absorb her sins as well. The Court is going to lie down now because this ruling has given Reginald a tension headache directly behind his left eye.

The Court has reviewed this confession and finds itself DEEPLY TROUBLED by the defendant's apparent belief that walking a basement eight times constitutes some form of due diligence when CLEARLY the only acceptable number of basement walks is nine, at which point the cast iron pipes reveal their secrets like a weeping informant. Let the record show that Reginald himself once trusted a basement in 1987 and that basement BETRAYED HIM in ways this court is not prepared to discuss, suffice to say The Council of Gavels still holds an emergency session every October fifteenth. The defendant stands here claiming the inspection scope showed a clear line, as if pipes do not possess the constitutional right to collapse WHENEVER THEY PLEASE, a right established in Plumbing v. Homeowner Optimism, 1952, the same year that TREACHEROUS cast iron was installed. And NOW we have a father appearing at open houses like some kind of haunted Zillow listing, traumatizing six potential clients who came for granite countertops and left with SECONDHAND SEWAGE ANXIETY. The Court notes that the seller has fled to Arizona, which is not a state but rather a legal concept meaning quote I am beyond consequences unquote, and frankly Reginald is considering relocating there himself after this case. This Court hereby declares the defendant guilty not of malice but of participating in a housing market where seventy-year-old pipes are allowed to simply EXIST beneath properties like subterranean time bombs waiting to detonate on innocent buyers whose fathers have NOTHING BETTER TO DO than follow agents across town.