We were the diners the proprietor wasn't sure what to do with. We were respectful enough. Had command of speech insofar as we made half sense, enough to make the receiver, waiters in this case, suppose that maybe we might have something of a point to make.
Which of course we did. There was a point that needed making, and we were making it. No question.
The question was, could we pull it off and not get thrown out?
Or could we at least get thrown out after pulling it off?
Burlap Sack is a story about a burlap sack.
There's a guy lugging around a burlap sack with a body in it. This represents his worries.
The moral/lesson of the story is that you can't bury your worries because your worries are what make you who you are. Bury your worries and you are no longer you.
So when the protagonist buries the burlap sack with the body in it that represents his worries, he gets shot, by the police.
There's a scene where he catches a ride, and the driver is asking him about the burlap sack, about his worries. He of course denies the burlap sack, denies his worries.
"What, this? Oh, it's nothing, just something I picked up along the way. Yes, it is quite heavy, a heavy burden you might say, but see how I carry it, the way I balance it on my shoulders just right, not too much this way, and not too much that way? It's not that bad, really."
"All right, if you say so. There's plenty of room in the back. I'm sure Martha wouldn't mind."
He glances back at Martha who's happy to be alive and smiles ear to ear.
Or is that where she's cut?
