First heard in Cologne, date unknown. Retold in Rijeka in 2022, via Berlin. Brought to the bonfire in Mošorin in 2023.
In ██████, a large town in ██████ there is a busy flea market. Every weekend, hordes of people flock to this peculiar marketplace, ███████ ████████ ███ ████████. ██████ ███ ███████ ███ ██ █████, ████ █████████ ████████ ██ █████████ █████, peddlers sold broken light bulbs. There were different colors, shapes, types. Each was sold at a modest price, but their shattered filaments and opaque glass gave no hint of their purpose. Why would anyone want to buy broken light bulbs? Those in the know understood that these bulbs were a crucial element of a quotidian struggle over scraps of disposable income by the bottom-of-the-ladder workers. Their true purpose lay in the shadows of the city’s vast office complexes. Buyers selected light bulbs that bore the closest resemblance to those used at work. They smuggled them to their workplaces, concealed in their briefcases, purses, and backpacks, like infiltrators on a mission beyond enemy lines. Once there, unseen by others, they secretly replaced functioning light bulbs with broken ones, taking home the good ones to use or resell. ████ ████ ████████ ███ ████ ████ ████ ███ ██ ████ ███████, ████ ████ ████ ████ ██████ ██ ███ ██████ ████, ████ ██████ ██ ████ ██████ ████████ ████ ████████ ███ █████ ██████████.