You buy your Döner. The Dönermann smiles and says,
"Habibi, I put a little extra for you!"

You nod, grateful. It smells amazing. You step outside, find a quiet bench, unwrap the foil—
and then it speaks.

"Boss... don’t eat me. Please. I don’t wanna die."

The meat shifts. The lettuce trembles. The tomato slides dramatically.
You stare. It stares back—well, metaphorically.

What follows is a deep, confusing, and heavily-accented philosophical debate with a Döner who has read too much Nietzsche and believes he deserves to live.