Fully-operational garbage trucks.
Portable "meth lab" placed in parking lots during public events. (sporting events, school functions, concerts, etc.)
Cardboard cutouts of civil employees placed in public venues. (stadiums, libraries, malls, etc.)
Portable toilets placed in public areas (stadiums, concerts, etc.)
Fake home listings (this was during the height of the real estate boom)
Run on sentence painted on the walls of a high school.
COPY: A COWORKER OF HERS, ANOTHER
WAITRESS, at a restaurant not far from here, said the
woman that came in that night, had blood splattered on
her dress and tiny drops speckled her face, the waitress
somewhat disturbed not only by the blood on the woman,
but a tick that caused her to convulse in a manner the
young waitress was unable to completely describe, backed
away from the counter, as she approached, the woman
fished in a baby bag over her shoulder spilling a child’s
play things on the floor, but would eventually find the gun
that she would soon use to hold up the waitress behind the
counter and the same gun, which just moments before, she
had used to kill her friend, and coworker, who had been
smoking a cigarette outside . . .that night, which really
began some days earlier when she went on one of her now
all too common meth benders, that would cause her to stay
awake for eight days straight and on the eighth to realize
that she, being deprived of sleep and for spending too
many days in a world of hallucinations, had left her baby
unattended for too long a time, and following this moment
of clarity, found her child dead of malnutrition, realizing
the trouble, she first put her baby boy in a trash bag and
then the trunk of her car, where it would soon end up in
a dumpster outside a restaurant where a girl was having a
cigarette, the waitress at first unseen by the woman had
watched on in horror, and would eventually let out from
deep inside her a small scream, hearing this the woman in
her only premeditated action of the evening had brought a
gun and fired upon the waitress, splattering the blood on
the woman that her friend and coworker would soon see,
disturbing her enough to call for the cook, an elderly man,
who would be hospitalized for the stroke he had on the
scene, and would leave him unable to work and in the care
of his wife for the rest of his short life, which caused his wife
to quit her job and their son to quit the basketball team to
work in the afternoons, not to mention the waitress that
died that night, whose finance went to counseling to deal
with her disturbing death, and her parents who would
eventually divorce citing irreconcilable differences in
large part because of her death, though they tried to make
it work for their other two younger daughters who grew
up in a broken home and would eventually be neglected,
at least emotionally, themselves, much like the baby of
the meth addict that was in a trash bag in the dumpster
as his mother sped down the highway eventually clipping
another car, severely injuring the driver and breaking
the nose and leg of another, but at least their injuries
helped crash the car, so the police could catch her and
arrest her and send her to the judge who sent her to the
institution that is run by the state that asks you every
March to pay the taxes that keep the woman sedated in
the small, white room and MAKES YOU, WHETHER
YOU TAKE IT OR NOT, INFECTED BY METH.
WAITRESS, at a restaurant not far from here, said the
woman that came in that night, had blood splattered on
her dress and tiny drops speckled her face, the waitress
somewhat disturbed not only by the blood on the woman,
but a tick that caused her to convulse in a manner the
young waitress was unable to completely describe, backed
away from the counter, as she approached, the woman
fished in a baby bag over her shoulder spilling a child’s
play things on the floor, but would eventually find the gun
that she would soon use to hold up the waitress behind the
counter and the same gun, which just moments before, she
had used to kill her friend, and coworker, who had been
smoking a cigarette outside . . .that night, which really
began some days earlier when she went on one of her now
all too common meth benders, that would cause her to stay
awake for eight days straight and on the eighth to realize
that she, being deprived of sleep and for spending too
many days in a world of hallucinations, had left her baby
unattended for too long a time, and following this moment
of clarity, found her child dead of malnutrition, realizing
the trouble, she first put her baby boy in a trash bag and
then the trunk of her car, where it would soon end up in
a dumpster outside a restaurant where a girl was having a
cigarette, the waitress at first unseen by the woman had
watched on in horror, and would eventually let out from
deep inside her a small scream, hearing this the woman in
her only premeditated action of the evening had brought a
gun and fired upon the waitress, splattering the blood on
the woman that her friend and coworker would soon see,
disturbing her enough to call for the cook, an elderly man,
who would be hospitalized for the stroke he had on the
scene, and would leave him unable to work and in the care
of his wife for the rest of his short life, which caused his wife
to quit her job and their son to quit the basketball team to
work in the afternoons, not to mention the waitress that
died that night, whose finance went to counseling to deal
with her disturbing death, and her parents who would
eventually divorce citing irreconcilable differences in
large part because of her death, though they tried to make
it work for their other two younger daughters who grew
up in a broken home and would eventually be neglected,
at least emotionally, themselves, much like the baby of
the meth addict that was in a trash bag in the dumpster
as his mother sped down the highway eventually clipping
another car, severely injuring the driver and breaking
the nose and leg of another, but at least their injuries
helped crash the car, so the police could catch her and
arrest her and send her to the judge who sent her to the
institution that is run by the state that asks you every
March to pay the taxes that keep the woman sedated in
the small, white room and MAKES YOU, WHETHER
YOU TAKE IT OR NOT, INFECTED BY METH.
Burnt spoons left around town.
Graffiti art that uses nearby trash as part of the message.
Post-it like sticker placed over a meth-related newspaper article.
A fragmented mirror hung in a public areas.
A fake pipe connected to a public water fountain. (airports, stadiums, libraries, etc.)
Small space BW newspaper.