If you happen to be walking down the streets of Brooklyn and a tuxedo-clad dolphin tries to sell you crack, don't be concerned. It's not real.
Neither is the dolphin. The not-so-illegal narcotics scheme is just performance artist Nate Hill's latest act.
Every other Saturday night, Hill dons a dolphin headpiece and white tuxedo and delivers $1 bags of "crack" – packs of crushed up sugar cubes flavored and colored with snow cone syrup, in actuality – to anyone in Williamsburg and Greenpoint who calls in an order.
He peddles his wares between 10 p.m. and 2 a.m. like a real drug pusher and considers his behavior "amusing theater."
Hill leads a performance group called Club Animals; all the members wear mascot heads and the inspiration for their work is to mix the worlds of children and adults, he says.
"It's like when children play cowboys and Indians or have tea time," Hill explained. "It's make believe but for adults."
But not everyone is amused. Hill's "performance" has galvanized neighborhood activists who think drugs are no laughing matter.
"I hate anybody who jokes about drugs," Ismael Torres, president of the Borinquen Plaza tenant association, told the Daily News. "I've seen too many cemeteries, too many hospitals, too many funeral parlors. The cops should stop this guy."
Police have Hill on their radar, but they can't exactly arrest him for dressing up like a marine mammal and selling sugar to willing customers.
"It's just candy," a police source told the News. "Unfortunately, being criminally stupid is not illegal."
As for the criticism aimed at his antics, Hill isn't overly concerned. Mixing the worlds of kids and adults "is not always going to be a happy marriage and that is one of reasons why there are critics of the Candy Crack Delivery Service," he said.
Hill's made quite a reputation for himself in the world of asinine acts. Some of his previous performance pieces include Chinatown garbage tours and knee-bouncing rides for straphangers; he's even made a practice of sewing together parts of dead animals to create fantasy composite creatures and bills himself as an "urban taxidermist." His day job is legit: beekeeper for a genetics lab.
Despite the outcry from some neighbors of his latest show, Hill has some fans.
"It's a great experience," said Enrica Serrero, 21, who ordered the candy crack at a Williamsburg party last Sunday. "I'd definitely do it again."