The only bigger piece of cake was the show itself. My opponents were total amateurs. First there was Marilyn, an accountant from Toledo who completely embarrassed herself by guessing that a 3rd edition copy of Stephen King's Salem's Lot was a 2nd edition print.

"Go back to tasting and smelling school," I said to her in my head.

Then there was Juan, an architect from St. Louis. Against anyone else, Juan might have been a challenge. He identified George Brett's batting glove from a 1986 game against the Baltimore Orioles, right after I correctly recognized the taste of a lock of Salvador Dali's hair, moving us both into the final round. From there, Juan was no match for me. In the end, it was Walter Mondale's cable bill that did him in. With a quick sniff I guessed correctly on a burned-out light bulb from Martin Mull's kitchen and victory, along with one billion lime-flavored marshmallows and a moped, was mine!

What I Plan To Do:

After the thrill of winning such an amazing prize, I calmed myself and came back down to earth. I realize now that I can either selfishly put all of those marshmallows to selfish and gluttonous uses, or I can take responsibility for the power and wealth I suddenly wield. I choose the latter.

First, I plan to sell one third of the lime-flavored marshmallows at an auction that will no doubt see both money and emotions get way out of control.

Next, with the money I receive from the sale, I will hire a team of the nation's top scientists and build The Institute for Lime-Flavored-Marshmallow-Related Research. I will then donate the remaining 666,666,666 lime-flavored marshmallows to the institute, where the brave and brilliant scientists will work tirelessly to not only create new and exciting uses for lime-flavored marshmallows, including, but not limited to alternative fuel sources, antibacterial soaps and housing for the underprivileged, but also seek out cures and treatments for the countless lime-flavored marshmallow diseases that plague the people of earth.

I will keep the moped.