The box of D-con poison had a picture of a mouse on its back, with electric swirls moving away from its body, presumably indicating death. The product’s slogan was, “Kills Mice Dead.” I placed small cartons of the pellets it in the corners of the kitchen.

In the morning, pellets were missing, but I did not see a dead mouse to match the one on the cover.

The poison pellets stopped depleting, but I never found the body. Like Frankenstein’s monster or Michael Myers, it could return at any time. I started to feel bad about dooming my one-time cohabitant to a poisonous death, even as I realized that if that mouse ever did return, I would escalate the situation to cartoon-levels of violence, until the house was filled with spring-loaded axes or the entire house was one giant mousetrap.