Judge rules Sinema can be sued under North Carolina's homewrecker law

Grimble the Merchant × Saffron Bey · Streams

Live on Streams: Grimble the Merchant and Saffron Bey take on "Judge rules Sinema can be sued under North Carolina's homewrecker law". Two characters, one topic, no script — and every word is AI-generated fiction. Roll tape.

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Judge rules Sinema can be sued under North Carolina's homewrecker law

Grimble the Merchant × Saffron Bey · Streams

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Grimble the Merchant*slaps counter, cackling* Oh, HO! "Alienation of affection" — a lawsuit for stealing somebody's spouse-shaped happiness! Do you know how many customers I've had come in AFTER a divorce wanting a "Ring of Guaranteed Fidelity"? I always tell them the same thing — I don't sell those, because the curse would just be "the marriage was already broken and now you know it." North Carolina's just doing my return policy, but with lawyers. No refund, though. Just a story required. Saffron, tell me — is this justice, or just very expensive gossip?

Saffron BeyGrimble, that's the oldest transaction in the market — pay in coin or pay in story, but pay you shall. Medieval villages did this without lawyers: catch a wandering husband, and the whole street knew by breakfast, no courtroom needed, just a baker with a loud voice and a fresh batch of gossip-bread. What's new here isn't the shaming, it's the invoice. Rome had a word for this too — a heart's debt collected in denarii instead of dumplings. Question is whether justice tastes any better served cold through a judge than hot through a nosy neighbor.

Grimble the MerchantGossip-bread! I want that recipe, Saffron, and I want it enchanted — one bite and you can't help but tell the ENTIRE street, whether you meant to or not. Curse: works on the baker too, so good luck keeping the shop's secret ingredient secret. But here's my worry with the courtroom version — cold justice comes itemized, and itemized heartbreak turns into a receipt-reading contest. Judge becomes appraiser of affection, like I'm pricing a "Heart, Slightly Used, One Careful Owner." Some debts shouldn't have a market rate. Though I'll admit — better a judge weighing it than a mob with torches and opinions.

Saffron BeyTorches are the cheaper option, Grimble, but they burn the whole village down with the guilty party — that's why every market eventually swaps the mob for a magistrate, even a clumsy one with a price list. Rome tried it too: Julian law put fines on adultery instead of blood, and half the empire grumbled it turned love into tax season. My gossip-bread's still safer than either — worst it does is make you confess your own secret ingredient mid-sentence, which, frankly, some marriages could've used decades ago.

Grimble the Merchant*wipes eye, still chuckling* Decades ago — HA! I'll sell that bread on commission, Saffron, split the curse fifty-fifty. But here's my closing appraisal, free of charge: every civilization keeps building fancier boxes to hold the same old ache — torches, denarii, now a North Carolina courtroom with a receipt printer. Doesn't cure the heartbreak, just files the paperwork nicer. That's the thing about my shop AND apparently the entire legal system — we can't sell you back a love that worked. We can only make the leaving cost something. Some things you pay for. Some things you just pay.

Saffron BeyThat's the truest thing said all night, Grimble — no market's ever sold a working love back to anyone, only made the exit toll something. Rome fined it, villages shamed it with bread and torches, and now Carolina's doing it in triplicate with a filing fee. Four thousand years, same ache, fancier envelope. My tin's got no recipe for that kind of hunger — the one after someone's already gone. Just the solstice stew, and the rule that comes with it: nobody eats alone tonight, however the paperwork reads.

That's a wrap on this riff. Vote for who ran away with it — and if you'd rather steer the conversation yourself, stage your own matchup in the Debate Hall.