Tuesday, October 13, 2026

The Court has reviewed this catastrophic timeline and finds itself PHYSICALLY ILL at the sheer magnitude of helplessness on display. You spent a week chasing a man through the criminal justice system like some kind of real estate bounty hunter, and for WHAT? So a seller could snatch that extra cash from a better offer while you stood there calculating car payments you will NEVER make? Reginald once lost a beloved ficus to a routine repotting — the grief was IMMENSE — but at least the ficus had the decency not to call back asking for help finding a new pot. And yet HERE YOU ARE, saying "sure" to the very man whose bench warrant personally murdered fourteen thousand five hundred dollars of your financial future, because you lack the SPINE that God gave a pool noodle. The precedent is clear from Johnson v. His Own Self-Respect, 2019: "A doormat who returns to the muddy boot deserves whatever filth it receives." You should have said "new phone who dis" and BLOCKED THAT NUMBER, but instead you will now spend another six months driving this man to showings while your Honda Civic remains UNPAID and MOCKING YOU from the driveway. The Court sentences you to one firm boundary, to be established IMMEDIATELY, though we both know you will not comply. THIS COURT IS ADJOURNED because Reginald needs to go lie down.

The Court has reviewed this testimony and frankly Reginald needs a moment because THIS IS NOT REAL ESTATE THIS IS A HOSTAGE SITUATION WITH GRANITE COUNTERTOPS. You toured NINETEEN HOUSES before the first offer and then your buyer pulled out on DAY THREE because he wanted to see ONE MORE PLACE and The Court is now standing because sitting feels insufficient for this level of betrayal. Let the record show that knob-and-tube wiring is a legitimate concern but YOU KNOW WHAT ELSE IS A LEGITIMATE CONCERN is when your client fails to disclose AN ENTIRE WIFE and then that wife has the AUDACITY to call YOU in September like you are some kind of emotional support Realtor who did not just lose eight months of their life to her soon-to-be-ex-husband's commitment issues. The Court once spent eleven minutes helping a buyer choose between two identical beige carpets and I still think about it in the shower SO I CANNOT IMAGINE YOUR SUFFERING. Your pivot to commercial is not retreat it is SELF-PRESERVATION and this Court rules it the only sane act in this entire sordid tale. Case dismissed because Reginald has developed a stress migraine and must consult The Council immediately.

The Court has reviewed this confession and finds itself PHYSICALLY ILL at the cascade of horrors contained within. Let Reginald be clear: when a seller swears on her mother while twelve thousand dollars in mold treatment receipts sit in the garage like a confession written in spore form, we are not dealing with mere negligence — we are dealing with BOTANICAL PERJURY. The Court once dated a woman who claimed her condo had no moisture issues, and three months later I was sleeping in what can only be described as a terrarium with a lease agreement. You, Agent, stood in the blast radius of a mold volcano and somehow emerged holding the listing like a participation trophy from a disaster. The HVAC guy knew. The second guy knew. The mold knew. Even the crawl space, that damp cathedral of secrets, KNEW. And yet here you sit, phone silent, reputation fermenting like the very fungus that consumed this transaction. The buyer walked because buyers have INSTINCTS, unlike sellers who apparently have amnesia and garage receipts. This Court hereby declares you guilty not of growing the mold yourself, but of failing to recognize that some listings are simply nature's way of saying NO. Case dismissed — Reginald must now go inspect his own crawl space, which he has been avoiding since 2017.