Ahh yes, my friends, the pita exacts its revenge. For those of you who are regular readers of my oh so interesting life tales on this blog, you will know that besides run-on sentences you can find a series of rants. A few rants back I so happened to talk about the ridiculous uses that pita makers were saying you could do with their product – said pitas must have taken offence, for this story I am about to tell is an offensive strike in a war I never knew I was fighting– until now (or it could just be a tale of my stupidity and awkwardness - you decide).
I arrived at work early but without morning nutrients. I had been running late and consequently didn’t have the time for the most needed meal of the day (according to most nutritionist and the CNN health page). The fridge only contained water, pop, and in the far back right corner . . . my last little pita. I threw it into the toaster oven (a new contraption to Chard kids) and made my way up front to open things up. I decided to make a quick call to a Windshield repair place. Five minutes later, not a care in the world, I was on hold listening to an elevator music type no- words medley of “Hit me Baby One more time” and “Bye, Bye, Bye” when a distant ping brought me back to reality. A reality that told me I had better get to the break room. I dropped the phone just as a neighbor was coming in the door and ran to the back. The pita was black as could be. I flipped the door down and used my fingernails to scrape it onto the counter – to my surprise it burst into flames! Not tiny little match flames but a foot or higher flames that were spreading as I stood there in a panic. Even though on the same counter, as the now fire encompassed pita, was a sink, that wasn’t my first thought. It went more like this - - - oh crap, ummm paper towel – no that would be stupid – I’m totally getting fired – ahhh – okay not a grease fire so water, right? Yeah water - - - I reached over flipped on the water and started cupping out water with my hands and hitting the pita – smoke went everywhere! Dennis, the neighbor that had come in was looking for my boss who was (luckily for me) out of town, had followed me back to the break room and was proceeding to tell me that I must have burned something. He was right about that as I opened the back door praying the smoke alarms would not go off – that would top things off.
I walked him out to the front as he jokingly asked me if I wanted him to leave the door open - umm yeah thanks. Still with my heart beating a mile a minute I sat at my desk, only to hear, “Mia . . Mia . . .Mia” – oh yeah, I forgot I was on the phone . .
Pita – you may have won this battle but the WAR IS ON - - - - -