The Eurovision entrants got out of the coach looked up at the huge hotel that towered above them. A huge American flag was draped on the wall. The American flag, marking this Swedish building as property of America and the Americans. The American soldiers showed the Eurovision entrants the way to the bar. America was giving them all free drinks, paid for by the Swedish government, of course.
It was a little while later and the Eurovision entrants were partying. Some of them were still a little upset at the realisation of what the occupation of Sweden meant, but generally, the mood in the room was a positive one. Serhat and Laura were drinking cocktails and chatting.
"Hahaha," Serhat laughed, "Did you hear? Every American owns 33 Swedes. Hey, if you could own 33 Swedes, any 33, which would you pick?"
"Oh wow, that's a difficult question," Laura said, leaning back in her chair, "Well, I'd have to have ABBA. Aviici. Swedish House Mafia. Hmm... who else, who else... oh, and Måns Zelmerlöw, of course. I'd choose him for sure. Wow, so many choices."
"Hahaha, good choices, good choices," Serhat laughed, "And that's only about 10 or so, you still have so many spare places!"
They both laughed again.
"Well, I'm glad you both find this so funny," a voice came from behind them. They turned to find none other than Måns Zelmerlöw himself standing there.
"Oh, oh, Måns!" Laura stammered, "Oh god, um, we're- we're really sorry, right Serhat?"
"Yeah yeah! We didn't know you were there!" Serhat said.
"No no, carry on, please continue," Måns said, "My country has been completely destroyed, but let's make hilarious 'jokes' about the '33 Swedes' that you could own like they are objects and not real, living people."
"I- I- I-" Laura didn't know what to say to that. Måns began to walk away.
"Whatever, I'm leaving. And Laura," Måns said as he left, "You will never own me."