Tuesday, September 29, 2026

The Court is APOPLECTIC. You stand before Reginald accused of participating in what can only be described as the most baffling property transfer since In re: That Time Someone Left A Hot Tub Full Of Koi Fish, 2019. A BEAGLE, counsel. A living, breathing, presumably howling beagle was included as an undisclosed fixture in that basement like some kind of furry water heater. The sellers THOUGHT CLOSING WAS TOMORROW? The Court has seen some calendar confusion in its day — Reginald himself once showed up to a mediation three days early and simply proceeded anyway because momentum is a legal doctrine — but this is UNCONSCIONABLE. You stood in your kitchen holding a fork, which The Court must note is not a legally recognized instrument of animal custody transfer, and you said the words "I genuinely don't know" to crying buyers who had just acquired an unexpected hound. The listing agent was unreachable, the sellers were presumably in a different time zone mentally, and that beagle sat in judgment of everyone involved with those sad, droopy eyes that see directly into the soul of every negligent party. This Court hereby finds that the dog is the only competent party to this transaction and should have been given power of attorney from the start. CASE DISMISSED BECAUSE REGINALD NEEDS TO GO HUG HIS OWN DOG IMMEDIATELY.

The Court has reviewed this confession and finds itself APOPLECTIC at the sheer preventability of this tragedy. You KNEW that house was built in 1924, which means you KNEW that attic contained the electrical equivalent of a museum exhibit, and yet you sent that buyer up there with nothing but an inspector and a smartphone like a lamb to the slaughter of WebMD for houses. Reginald himself once lost a bidding war because a retired pharmacist convinced his daughter that the HVAC system was "breathing wrong," so The Court understands the terror of parental intervention, but UNDERSTANDING is not FORGIVENESS. The inspector TOLD YOU the wiring was inactive, and what did you do with that information? You let it sit there like a garnish on a plate while the buyer's father, a man who has presumably seen actual fire, constructed an entire narrative about his daughter dying in an inferno caused by wires that were not even CONNECTED to anything. That poor woman in Phoenix lost twelve thousand dollars because you brought a disclosure to a dad fight. THIS COURT FINDS that you should have camped outside that attic with a laminated diagram and a notarized statement from an electrician before any firefighter-adjacent individual set foot on the property. The gavel has spoken, and Order the Roomba is circling the bench in what I can only interpret as profound disappointment.

The Court has reviewed this confession and finds itself DEEPLY DISTURBED by the chaos that unfolded here. You allowed a staging company — a group of people whose ENTIRE JOB is to make empty houses look less sad — to commit what can only be described as reverse burglary, leaving your clients to dial 911 over the disappearance of a rented sectional. Reginald himself once came home to find his Le Creuset had been moved three inches to the left and he did not sleep for A WEEK, so the Court understands the sellers' trauma. But then — THEN — you paid two hundred American dollars for a letter explaining incompetence that was not even yours. This is not business expense, this is EXTORTION wearing business casual. The fact that these sellers now dine out on this story at neighborhood gatherings while you presumably pace your kitchen wondering if the staging company will strike again is a form of cosmic justice The Court did not order but will accept. Per the landmark decision in IKEA v. Emotional Stability (2019), all parties who introduce temporary furniture into permanent transactions do so at their own peril. The bailiff will now vacuum near your feet as a warning.