9X10

For the second time, David and I attended 9X10 last night, an event which invites nine people to get up and tell a story lasting no longer than 10 minutes.
Last night's theme was Sorry. The range of stories was expansive.

One woman told of her husband's proposal to her at the top of the Eiffel Tower. One man told of living in Chicago with four flatmates, one of whom he absolutely detested. One woman told of a massage she had while on holiday in India. One man told of his drunken escapades. One woman told of a fight she had when she was a child with a girl in the holiday caravan next door--this after the girl told her there was no Santa Claus.

My favorite was a man who told a story of his sulking, teenage self, who lit matches to impress his friends while the English teacher was out of the classroom. When she returned, she could smell the matches. When she confronted him, she made him look under his seat, where there was not only a match, but also a tampon that had apparently rolled out of the bookbag of the girl behind him. His teacher was apoplectic and could not even construct a sentence in her fury, shock, and fear. He--a bright, book-loving, shy teenager--was relegated to a lower class, where he failed his exams. The man is a very gifted writer and his delivery is deadpan. He delivered comedy and tragedy in equal measure and he leaves you wanting to know more about how his life unfolded after the traumas of adolescence.
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