Red stick, red stick

“On Harold’s patient directions, the amused bartender at the Holiday Inn made us a sort of booze snow cone with créme de menthe. I guess I was so healthy and unpolluted, I felt it immediately, my first drink, or suck. I lit up like a pink sponge. All the world seemed at my feet. . . . Even the city name, Baton Rouge, was vastly hip. Red stick, red stick. Very way out.”

—Barry Hannah, ‘Scandale D’estime’, Bats Out Of Hell, 1993.