This Friday I had the exact same medical examination I've had a few weeks ago. Back then I got myself a pita of chicken souvlaki on the way back to the office which ended up cracking and spilling its guts on me despite my 31 years of distinguished pita experience from Israel.
So I just had to go to the same place, order the same chicken souvlaki (this time I was wise enough to ask for chili flakes for that hot taste I like so much and some parsley leaves) and show the pita who the boss is.
What can I say? Mustering all bits of Israeliness in my veins, I showed this pita a thing or two. Not a drop was spilled; I didn't even chew on 1 cm^2 of paper pita wrapping. And I consumed the souvlaki with great delight and much vigor.
I guess this is a warning to chickens everywhere that as long as I'm around and as long as meat is rolling on big stakes, they should think twice before messing with the pita doctor's best friend!