Dali Cannon orders a number 4

Have you ever chopped off a rooster's head, poured the blood into a glass of wine and drank it? Neither had Dali Cannon, until last night. It was in the East side ghetto, Chinatown. The night started off innocently enough. Dali was walking aimlessly down a glass sidewalk wearing silly slippers admiring the brick buildings, ornamental pagoda rooftops, and dragon lampposts. A red gold and green neon sign advertising bubble tea caught his attention.
"Mmmmm I would love a mango drink," he thought. "Perfect way to wash down the joint I just smoked." Dali entered the little shop, saw Mango Bubble Tea was #4 and so ordered a number 4.
The 70 or 80 year old Chinese man behind the counter spoke almost no English and was pointing at a bamboo dragon with a pair of chopsticks.
"Ahh, a dragon head, cool. Number four I want" Dali repeated, showing 4 fingers with his hand. The elderly clerk's eyes lit up with a sense of understanding. He unlocked a small door at the back of the shop and led Dali down a set of rickety stairs into a dark dank basement.
Cannon felt like he was on a movie set as the old chinese guy led him to a an old wood bench at a makeshift table. The room was a shooting gallery full of junkies. There were even a couple of guys on mattresses smoking Opium old school style.
"No number four, sorry," said a young man in Straw Sandals, "Try this one, China White almost as good." He handed Dali a white powder in aluminum foil. Dali Cannon had never seen heroin before, but took the foil and asked,
"I came here for a bubble tea. What is going on? Can I smoke this?"
The young Chinese drug dealer answered, "I thought that you ordered number 4 and wanted to chase the dragon. Didn't you?" Dali was very curious to try the drug and acted cool saying he was just joking, of course he wanted to "Chase the Dragon." He paid for the stuff and looked around. A toothless freak that looked like a ghost smiled at Dali and came to his table.
The ghostly addict helped Dali heat the foil, melt the powder into a light brown oil and inhale the smoke. Dali instantly felt the first hit. It was bitter as the grave he thought. He felt intensely ill, but did not seem to care as giant rolling waves of euphoria washed over his being. This continued for three to four hours as Dali Cannon and the toothless man became better acquainted.
The rest of the story is very blurry, but Dali remembers walking through a network of underground tunnels and ending up at a Chinese man's they called the "Incense Master". He also remembers being part of a ceremony where the Incense Master pricked his finger, but the craziest thing Dali could recall was the cutting off of a rooster's head and mixing the blood with some wine than drinking and drinking and Da Da Da Li Li Li Da Da Dat's all folks.

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