Sullenly, I gave him my sandwich. He was armed and dressed like he stepped out of the 1930s. Clearly, he was a nut. So a pita sacrifice seemed the proper thing to do.
He bit into the gyro. Creamy white yogurt sauce stained his magnificent moustache. He smirked at me.
"Exult, young man, for this day you have been blessed by the presence of the Gyro Raider," he said.
"I'll give my regards to Condiment King," I muttered as the villain darted away.
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