I've been thinking about the Ped-Egg.

 You know, that skin-scraping device that's sweeping the nation? Okay, that may be an overstatement, but a lot of people have bought these things. Apparently, rough, dry feet are the scourge of the country, because folks can't get enough of these little plastic-y miracle workers.

The basic premise is you open this bad boy up to find essientially a cheese-grater that your rub against your callused feet  and the result is smoothness like a newborn baby's butt. Plus, it collects all the dead powdery skin in a little compartment that you dump like so much used parmesan. It's a rather genius invention. And that really pisses me off.

Because I invented the Ped-Egg.

Sure, mine was slightly different, but the concept was basically the same.  Instead of the cheese-grater attachment, I fashioned three rusty razor blades together, but the results were similar. Let me tell you, the Wonderhorse Wonderegg shaved those calluses right the hell off. Admitedly, we ran into a few problems during the early testing, but if you could look past all the blood and torn cartilage, it all worked out in the end. Our Hungarian test subjects' foot tissue all grew back within a few months and 7 out of the 10 can now get around without the use of a cane or walker. Damned FDA.

Oh, I'm full of inventions. I've been inventing things ever since I was a wee lad. Let's see, there was the electric shower. The battery-operated battery - I had big hopes for that one. The solar-powered tanning bed. All ideas way before their time, I guess.

There was the Marlboro Extra - a cigarette with four times the tobacco and 12 times the nicotine. Yes, it would have been more expensive, but many smokers have told me they'd be more than willing to pay $22 a pack. What else? There was the robotic paperweight, the computer monitor made of balsa wood, the water-proof washrag. The Cat Bath could have been huge. The Do-It-Yourself Vasectomy Kit generated a lot of interest. Let's not forget the Wind-up Breast Polisher  (Remember our catchphrase: "Don't Be A Heiny, Make Your Tits Shiny!"?) - that was me. Don't let the appearance fool you - the Wonderhorse mind is a playground of activity.

 Oh, I once invented a compound that could make ham taste like bacon. I mean, so what if it made your balls swell?  I've got it all - devices to cook a roast, to grow hair, to make your penis bigger, to make your penis smaller - everything you could ever desire, I have an invention for.

I'm telling you, it's only a matter of time. Soon enough, you'll be seeing the Wonderhorse on every late night commercial. Sunday mornings will become Wonderhorse TV. I'm going to corner the market on doo-dads and tchotchkies. I was willing to pose as a prostitute to get Vince the Shamwow Guy out of the picture (don't drop the soap, my lazy-eyed friend), so it won't be long before I give Ron Popeil the beat-down he so richly deserves.

"But, Sheldon," you're saying. "How can you possibly help me, the everyday OS user?" Well, I have a little something here that will not only get you an EP and Cover Spot every time, butI guarantee Joan and Kerry will come over to your house and beg you to write full time for them. They'll be carrying bags of cash and platters of food. Their world will be your oyster.  That's my personal promise, and it can be yours for five easy payment of $19.99.

Call now.