There was once a country named Bilgespot that depended very heavily on its horses, which were used for both labor and transportation.  Everyone had to have at least one horse, but most families had two or more.  Considering the importance of horses in Bilgespottian society, Bilgespottians understandably wanted maximum output from their animals.  This was a vexing problem until one day, when an odd little man peddling an odd line of products showed up.
    "Beans!" he shouted. "Magic beans to trade for cows!  Grow gigantic beanstalks in your own front yard!"
    But no one was having any of that.
    "What do you take us for, anyway?" people asked.
    "Well, as much as I can," mumbled the odd little man. "How about this?"
    He showed them a nasty smelling weed.
    "I think that's illegal," said the Bilgespottians.
    "No no no," said the odd little man. "Not this stuff."
    "So, what is it?" asked the Bilgespottians. "And what does it do?"
    "It's horse feed," said the peddler. "But not just ordinary horse feed."
    "Oh?" said the Bilgespottians, perking up a bit.
    "This stuff just drives horses wild!  They can't resist it.  It's called 'horsenip.'"
    "No, we need our horses tame," said the Bilgespottians, losing interest.
    "Wait wait wait!" called the peddler to the retreating Bilgespottian backs. "What I mean is, that it gives them incredible energy and power."
    "Oh?" said the Bilgespottians again.

    Strangely enough, horsenip was all the odd little peddler had said it would be.  Before long, every horse in Bilgespot was being fed on horsenip, and all the citizens of Bilgespot were happy.  Well, maybe not perfectly happy, and maybe not quite all, but on the whole ...
    Well, to be honest, the peddler hadn't mentioned that horsenip had a couple of very minor drawbacks.  For one thing, it caused the horses to break wind.  Continuously and odoriferously.  So, one couldn't set foot outside in Bilgespot anymore without firm resolve and a gas mask.  Certain respiratory ailments were rumored to be horsenip byproducts, but there was really no hard evidence, and, even if it were true, Bilgespottians considered that a small price to pay.
    And there was one other thing.  Horsenip wouldn't grow in Bilgespot.  It had to be imported, which made it rather expensive.  But again, Bilgespottians considered this a small (but increasing) price to pay.  In fact, it rapidly turned into a high price to pay, but by then, Bilgespottians were so dependent on their horsenip, that they would pay any price for it.
    So, all in all, horsenip was a great success in Bilgespot.  Oh, yes.  There was one other tiny detail.  The only countries where horsenip grew were always at war.  That not only sent the price of horsenip through the roof, it made the very supply of horsenip precarious indeed.  So, before long, Bilgespot started sending troops to secure the vital flow of horsenip.

    It wasn't long before Bilgespottians began to get tired of the putrid smell, the respiratory disorders, the high prices, and the perpetual warfare.  But if they wanted to have their horsenip, they had to accept the bad with the good.  And they did want their horsenip.
    Then a young Bilgespottian named Irwin had an idea.
    "Why not let the horses eat grass?" he suggested.
    "Are you crazy?" replied his countrymen. "Horses can't eat grass!  They have to have horsenip!"
    But Irwin wasn't convinced, so he went to see the President of Bilgespot.
    "Mr. President," he said. "Let's let our horses eat grass!"
    "Are you crazy?" asked the President. "Horses can't eat grass!  They have to have horsenip!"
    "No, they don't, Mr. President," Irwin insisted. "I've been feeding my horses grass, and they do just fine.  It's cheap, clean, and abundant.  And it's just as good as horsenip."
    "Well, I don't know about that," said the President. "But I'm going to let you speak to my boss."
    "Your boss, Mr. President?  You mean the people of Bilgespot?"
    "Of course not," said the President. "My boss is the CEO and Chairman of the Board of Bilgespot Horsenip Purveyors."
    And the President introduced Irwin to the odd little peddler, who was now the odd little CEO and Chairman of the Board of Bilgespot Horsenip Purveyors.
    "What's this cockamamy idea of yours?" asked the odd little CEO.
    "I propose to feed the horses of Bilgespot grass instead of horsenip," said Irwin.
    "Are you crazy?" asked the odd little CEO. "Horses can't eat grass!  They have to have horsenip!"
    "No, they don't," said Irwin once again. "Just listen to this:  it will clean up our air, save every Bilgespottian a pile of money, and give us peace.  Now, how often can you get such a huge return so cheaply and easily?"
    "Your idea won't work," said the odd little CEO.
    "Why not?" asked Irwin.
    "How am I supposed to corner the market on grass?" asked the odd little CEO.
    "Um, I guess you can't," said Irwin.
    "Well, there you are," said the odd little CEO.
    "I don't understand," persisted Irwin. "What's wrong with my idea?"
    "It fails to preserve my obscene profits," said the odd little CEO.

    Thus was Bilgespot saved from a dangerously harebrained idea.  May we all be so lucky.