Sock, tomato-can and spoon are embarking on a trip towards the heart of their religious homeland: jerusalem! Yes, the three of them are deeply christian. They know each other from their weekly get-together at the praise-the-lord-jesus meetings. Tomato-can, however, is not well. She has never flown in her life. She feels like throwing up. Some reddish puree comes out of her mouth just when they are about to go through passport control at Schiphol. Tomato-can is handcuffed and taken away. Of course, she could have been a walking bomb. Sock and spoon wave goodbye to her, and sit tight in the plane. No problems at customs in tel-aviv, thank god and jesus. A lovely girl walks up to them and asks spoon if he has relatives in israel. Yes, he has, obviously thousands of them around. The lovely girl puts him in her mouth and holds him tight with her teeth. Her profile-training was clear: having many kins equals many potential bad connections. Au revoir spoon. Sock sits all alone in her hotel room. “Me, me, I wanna be your boyfriend!”, cries the bible. “No, take me!”, shouts the economic magazine. Sock has enough of religious objects and goes with the economic magazine. They live happily ever after and have many happy capitalist children.
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