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I was just thinking recently about the time I got a faceful of strychnine as a small child prowling through the hall closet while my grandma's back was turned. It was just sitting on the shelf, white powder in a little glass jar, no safety cap, no Mr Yuck sticker. It might not have even had a label. I happened to knock it over, and I can still remember the taste nearly sixty years later. We used to live so dangerously.
Ah the bad old days, when we used generic neurotoxin against rats.