Self Narration / by Jeffrey Lo

June 11 2018 - Self Narration.jpg


A workplace cafeteria. Sitting at a table is GUY.

GUY is writing in a small notebook. After a moment, he stops and puts it away.

GUY: The plan was to write for most of my lunch break. The tiresome drudging that weighed me down workday to workday made satisfying my artistic pursuits quite difficult. So I made a goal for myself: write for most of my lunch break. My plan, however, has been interrupted a mere 2 minutes into the execution of said plan by the persistent grumbling of my stomach…

I am hungry.

Today is day one of this goal. Day one (and therefore the goal) are not going so well.

He takes out a paper bag.

GUY:  I reached over to my side and picked up my wrinkled brown paper bag which contained my lunch. A brown paper bag. It is what my mother did and therefore what I did. Which… never mind. That is a different matter and a different story. I will get to that later on in my career. Inside the paper bag is my trusty egg salad sandwich. My reliable, delicious piece of –

GIRL enters carrying her lunch and a book.

GUY: Then, the most beautiful and charming girl walks into the cafeteria. Although I have not heard her speak a single word, I knew – I just knew– that she was the most charming woman to walk the face of this earth. Ok, truth be told, I did not know. I had no way of knowing but what I didknow was that she was just… Beautiful…. Stunning… and Probably/Hopefully Charming.

GIRL turns to GUY for a brief glance. 

GUY does a poor job of hiding that he was admiring her.

GUY:Talk to her. I should –  No. I owe it to myself to talk to her. Perhaps I owe it to herto talk to her. A casual, “hello” should do. Yes. I am going to do that. I am going to –

GIRL: Excuse me?

GUY: Yes?

GIRL: I can hear you.




GUY:… Oh…