The Forb solves the cell phone problem.

I walked into The End of Time by myself this morning, abandoning Winnie to the decorating of our apartment for Christmas. She’s very excited about our first Christmas together, and I have an aversion to arranging cute little do-dads in the place where I eat and sleep. It all works out for the best.

I was barely in the door when The Forb signaled for me to join him at his table. His morning newspaper was shoved aside and he was scribbling on a piece of paper. He looked feverish.

“Max, I’m writing a letter to the editor of that rag of a newspaper of yours. I’m going after this thing about banning cell phones in cars. I could care less about cell phones in general, but I maintain my view that the world is dominated by idiots.”

I ordered my coffee as Mirna floated by, carrying a couple of steaming mugs of something and humming an unrecognizable tune. “And you want to read it to me, right?”

“That’s right. I’ll spare you my cultural critique, but I’m offering the world a list of other things that should be banned while driving a motor vehicle, since we’re so keen on preserving everyone from their own stupidity. Listen to this:

1.     Smoking. It’ll kill you eventually, but you don’t need to take others with you when you crash your car while trying to light up. Banned.

2.     Kissing. It’s almost impossible to kiss someone with your eyes open. No one should drive with closed eyes. Banned.

3.     Sex. Goes without saying. Banned.

4.     Other people in the car, especially children. Other people are the biggest distraction ever. My ex-wife is evidence of that. Banned.

5.     Eating. The consumption of a bean and beef burrito while driving is a recipe for death, the indigestion notwithstanding. Banned.

6.     Manual transmissions. The addition of a clutch pedal and six possible shifting positions makes driving way too complicated, especially for the population of morons that we all seem to be. Banned.

7.     Praying. No one should be allowed to pray while driving, for two reasons: First, many people pray with their eyes closed. This puts it in the same danger category as kissing. Second, the Almighty would surely be offended when one second you’re praising his holy name, and the next you’re flipping the bird to the guy who just cut you off. Banned.

8.     Car radios. Too many buttons and too much stupid music. Banned.

9.     Day dreaming. If you’re thinking about something else, then you’ll drive right up somebody’s tailpipe. Driving takes focus. Banned.”

“Wait a second,” I said. “How in the world can the police monitor ‘day dreaming’?”

“Easy,” said The Forb. “They just look for people who look glazed over and are smiling. If they’re smiling, then they are either talking on a cell phone, listening to the radio, praying, or having sex, all of which are banned. If none of those things are provable, then the cop defaults to a charge of day dreaming.”

“This is ridiculous.”

“Of course it is, Max! Don’t you recognize irony when you hear it?”

I left The Forb to his work and found my own table just as Mirna brought the coffee. I thought about that crazy list and almost started laughing. I thought about each one that The Forb had listed: Kissing, sex . . . All in a car. Hilarious. Graphic. Interesting.

I finished my coffee and went back home to see what Winnie was doing.

I come clean about my wedding.

Okay. So it’s time to quit fooling around. My niece Daisy, never one to shy away from exposing falsehood, called me on the phone after she read yesterday’s post and put me in my place.

“Uncle Max, it’s Daisy. Your niece.”

“As opposed to Daisy, my 150-pound Rottweiler?”

“Funny. Look, it’s time for you to put down your crack pipe and tell the truth. Your story was cute, but totally bogus. You’d better clean up your act or no one will believe you when you actually are serious about something. You’re a journalist—you should know this.”

Daisy’s right. I need to come clean. Winnie and I did get married, but not in the way I described yesterday.

I did take her to a restaurant—sort of. It was a little take-out taco joint and we ate our food while sitting on the curb looking out on the street. We did stroll by a body of water, but it was the lower end of Fifth Street where a water main had broken. There clearly was that moment when my love for her bubbled to the surface and I turned to her to ask her to spend the rest of her life with me. She looked deeply into my eyes and spoke gently:

“You have some cilantro on your front tooth.”

I picked it out and re-asked the question. She said yes, and we set out to make our plan. Father Gene actually didn’t conduct our ceremony since neither one of us is Catholic and we had decided to get married right away. We got married at City Hall, and Father Gene came as the witness. But he hosted a wedding party for us at his rectory, and we had a great time. I took Winnie out to meet my parents, and they were happy for us and not entirely disappointed that they had not made the trek to our wedding. They don’t have TIVO, so they don’t like to miss their shows.

It’s true that The Forb and Limerick Bill paid for our trip to Montana. But it was at the Hotel Montana in a town fifty miles from here. We were there for two days rather than two months. The Forb said that, because it’s an election year, I can pay him back by listening to his deeply informed views about American politics. I can hardly wait.

It’s almost true about my job. I asked for the new position, and they’re still thinking about it. I moved into Winnie’s place, since it doesn’t require sandblasting prior to habitation.

Okay, so I made up the first story. It was a good one, and the one I would have chosen had I been able. But the true part is that Winnie and I are married, and Life at the End of Time will take a different turn.

Maxwell is back!

I must apologize to my formerly faithful readers for being AWOL all these months. I have no excuses, but plenty of reasons that I hope you will understand. Here are some of them:

The newspaper for which I write gave me a more substantial job than just being a freelance columnist, so now I actually make a living with my writing. I also moved to an apartment that has room for more than one person and a small family of cockroaches. Then I spent two months in seclusion in a ranch-like retreat in Montana.

Why, you might ask, did all these things take place? Hmmmm?

Because Winnie and I got married.

That’s right—we got married. At the end of the summer things started heating up for us. I looked at my reflection in the mirror one morning and asked myself if I wanted to risk spending the rest of my pathetic life without Winnie. I knew that I didn’t, so I took her out to a nice restaurant and then on an evening walk at the edge of town near a lake where people stroll on warm summer nights.

I looked at her and thought about how she was alone in the world—her mother gone, her father and brother acting like thuggish trolls—and how I was alone as well. In the time that I’d known her she had changed my perception of her being uptight and prudish to someone with great depth and beauty. I began to consider myself to be a slob not worthy of her company, which was probably a good place to start.

I asked her to marry me, and she said yes without inquiring about my financial status or potential genetic anomalies. She wanted a small, quiet wedding, one in which her remaining relatives would not be invited. My parents were there, my sister and Daisy showed up, and most of the good folks from The End of Time filled in the rest of the gaps. Father Gene did the honors, which might have broken a few church rules, but I don’t think he cared.

Much to my surprise, The Forb and Limerick Bill got together and sprang for the honeymoon at the retreat in Montana. Apparently The Forb had some old business connections that owed him favors. I was able to email my work to the newspaper, and Winnie and I had a great time in the wilds of Montana for two months.

So that’s the story. Now that we’re back and teetering on a life that is respectable, Life at the End of Time will resume. There’s more to tell, of course, but that will have to wait. Stay tuned.