SULTAN, WA — For months one name continuously popped up on the Sultan Facebook page.
If a bike was stolen, his name was referenced. If drugs were being dealt, his name was the first mentioned. If someone smelled something funny, he usually was to blame as well.
Lately we’ve heard his name fewer and fewer times, which made us at the Sultan Satire ask, “Where in the world is Heavy C?”
EDITOR’s NOTE: This “interview” and most of the story was conducted before we found out Heavy C was on his way to Everett via transportation courtesy of the Snohomish County Sheriff.
Yes, Heavy C, the notorious crime lord of Sultan who sends out his minions via bicycle, and usually in the middle of the night, to deliver drugs, steal loose change from the center console of your unlocked cars, and just wreak havoc in the minds of citizens throughout our sleepy town.
We at the Sultan Satire were fascinated by this famous, but to us, mythical being called Heavy C, that we not only wanted to meet him, but sit down with him to find out why he does what he does, and what he thinks about all the chatter on the social media page about him.
How did we get this interview?
Pretty simple. We used the My Cousin Vinny method of wrapping a $20 bill around a few $1s and then put a note inside that asked if we could do an interview with him. Turns out Heavy C is a huge Ralph Macchio fan, and quickly corresponded back to us by sending a 9-year-old to break into our car and leave a note on our dashboard.
Even though the Facebook page loves to throw out pictures of his front lawn and directions to and from his house, we were required to wear a blindfold, so as to not know the whereabouts of his secret lair.
We met at Osprey Park and were greeted by two, short and stout boys, both with awkward under bites and unusually large hands. Both also sported two – yes two – backpacks. As we know from Facebook posts, if you wear two backpacks you must be homeless or a drug dealer, so we figured they were with Heavy C. They blindfolded me and my photographer and we gently rode on the handlebars of each kid’s bike.
The Gamorrean brothers walked us down the hallway of Heavy C’s palace, when we were met by a tall, slender women with long braided hair that wrapped from one shoulder to the next. She was wearing a bib, and called herself Fortuna, possibly after the Greek goddess of luck, though she looked very unlucky, with a long, blue robe and blue gloves that covered everything but the tips of her fingers.
When I first saw Heavy C he was laying flat on his couch, much like the Cheshire Cat sitting on the bough of a tree, legs dangling off to one side. He looked to be smoking a hookah, with a “Game Day Bucket” from KFC in between his abnormally short arms.
He was large, fitting for the nickname Heavy, had a deep laugh, liked licking around his lips, and drooled quite a bit. By his side was a little snippy dog, with long pointy ears, that yapped every time Heavy C laughed.
Throughout the interview he remained on the couch, while we sat on stools, the floor feeling unstable, as if it could fall at any given time and we’d be trapped underneath his lair with some huge, man-eating dog.
SULTAN SATIRE (SS): We want to thank you for allowing us the exclusivity of having this interview with you.
HEAVY C (HC) (biting off a chunk of chicken wing, as if it were frog legs): You’re welcome.
SS: How’s the chicken?
SS: I don’t want to waste your time so let’s get started. You seem to have a bad wrap around town, do you think that’s warranted?
HC: Listen, if you came here to talk about warrants then I’m going to need you to leave.
SS: No, no. Warranted, like do you deserve to be called names, to have people driving by your house taking pictures, to have people snap photos of you while you ride your bike around town?
HC: Oh, is that what they’re doing? Phones these days are weird, and the way everyone is lifting them up to take these “selfies” I’m never sure if they are snapping photos of me and my house, or themselves.
SS: It’s you.
HC: Oh. Well as long as they like what they see.
SS: Most say you’re doing things like stealing bicycles, dealing drugs, and sending out kids to prowl cars late at night.
HC: I don’t know what you’re saying, but on the record, I bring in more business in this town than everybody but that friggin’ bakery. Seriously, the amount of stolen materials we bring in and out on a daily basis, it’s crazy the numbers we are doing. Plus, ain’t nobody create more job opportunities for kids 9-14 in this town than me. I teach them responsibility. I teach them about loyalty. And I teach them about ditching your bicycle and running the other way as fast as you can, and that if you snitch on me, you’ll be found floating head down in the river. Cause of death: not wearing a life jacket.
SS: Don’t you think you’re sending these kids down the wrong path?
HC: Don’t you think their parents already did? If they are visiting with me than Daddy didn’t give attention and Mommy didn’t care.
SS: Isn’t that from Pearl Jam’s “Jeremy“?
HC: Probably. I usually like quoting songs from their album Ten. Try this, sometimes these kids are like thoughts arriving like butterflies, but we chase them away. Someday, they’ll begin their life again.
HC: Give up?
SS: Not my genre of music. I was more into the ’90s R&B than the grunge stuff. I only know “Alive” and … let’s go with “Even Flow.”
HC: You got it. “Even Flow.” And I should kick your ass for listening to that sappy shit.
SS: What, the girls like that. How often did you get laid in high school?
HC: You’re a reporter, how often did you?
Heavy C was interrupted, but we did overhear him talking to someone he referred to later as Bob Ahfett.
HC (overheard): He’s my kind of scum, fearless and inventive. I’ll offer him a sum of $35.
HC (turning to us): Where were we?
SS: Do you keep up with the stuff on the Facebook page?
HC: Not sure what a Facebook page is.
SS: Do you have a Facebook?
HC: Just because you’re some sort of wannabe writer doesn’t mean you have to get all high-tech with me. You’re going to have to start speaking English or this chat is going to end.
SS: Facebook. It’s a social media site where you can see what your friends are up to, like or comment on what they are doing, stay in touch with them all via your cell phone or computer.
HC: Why wouldn’t I just do that in person?
SS: Well you could but …
HC: Why couldn’t I just tell them to their face that I liked what they had for lunch, enjoy watching their kids play in their backyard, or disagree with their political views?
SS: You could but …
HC: Sounds like it could cause a lot of drama. Like what if I didn’t like their posts, or what if I really didn’t know them too well and didn’t want to be friends with them then what? All of a sudden I’m getting hated on because, “Why don’t you like pictures of my kids anymore?” or “Why did you ignore my request to be friends?” Now I have people I know, and don’t know, that are pissed at me because I don’t find the pictures of them at a restaurant entertaining enough to click a thumb up button. What’s wrong with having just 10-15 really good friends that you can share everything with face-to-face? You and those 15 people know you’re having a fun time, nobody else needs to know or needs to like the fact that they know I’m having a good time.
SS: I guess but …
HC: Facebook? What a silly name, more like Ruin-Relationships-Digitally-Book.
SS: Good one. Anyway, so these people on the Facebook page are constantly talking about you, calling you names, how does that make you feel?
HC: Let’s go back to the 10-15 good friends thing. If it’s one of my 10-15 good friends, I’m a bit bothered. If it’s … how many?
SS: I’d say close to 100.
HC: S**t! These people don’t know me personally. How often are they posting? Like once a week or what?
SS: Um, pretty much every day, every couple of minutes.
HC: Okay, so while I’m busting my @$$, stealing their s**t, these people are busy sitting on their butts typing about what I could or could not be doing? Tell me what’s wrong with this. I’m working for my money. I may be stealing their stuff, but they are stealing either their own time, their kid’s time, or their bosses time by attempting to keep all up in my business.
SS: To be honest with you they’ve kind of made you a legend in this town. Like those outlaws we all root for in the Western flicks.
HC: Like Emilio in Young Guns?
SS: Something like that.
HC: You know the world needs bad guys. From worldly bad guys like Satan Hussein, or Obama Bin Laden to local bad guys like myself. If we didn’t have bad guys we’d all be bored, or creating bad guys via that Facebook thing you were talking about.
SS: Do you think you’ll ever stop what you’re doing?
HC: I don’t think so. I’m a thirtysomething “crime lord” in a town of 4,000 that has built me up via some wacky website to be some type of Don Corleone, except instead of using classic cars and Tommy guns we’re using BMXs and backpacks. Plus, it’s a block to the river, and you really can’t pass up the view of the Cascades.
SS: Are you afraid of getting caught?
HC: We live in a world where a football player beats his wife, drags her unconscious body out of the elevator and gets two days of suspension. Meanwhile, another player smokes pot and gets a year suspension. That’s the way we roll in America.
Have you ever been arrested here? Not just in Sultan but in this country? Our judicial system is so backwards that the wrong people are constantly getting convicted and the people who should be convicted know the right people to get them out of trouble within days. If I’m ever arrested I’ll be out either via bail or because they don’t want to shove a dude that steals the occasional BMX into an overcrowded cell with a dude that likes touching little kids.
Some dude, not associated with my group of people, which reminds me, check out the people in the trailers behind that old trailer repair shop right on Highway 2, right before the coffee stand, you want messed up people who need to be either in jail, in treatment, or in the ground, go back there. Anyway, this dude robs the pharmacy over there and gets two lousy days in jail. I’m stealing bicycles and loose change. If anyone deserves to be spending nights in jail, it’s the dude stealing prescription drugs.
SS: Don’t you feel bad for what you’re doing?
HC: Lock your doors. We ain’t breaking windows, we’re checking for loose change, sunglasses and rewritable CDs.
SS: The City and its citizens have done a lot in the last few months to slow you and your gang down, does that bother you?
HC: Of course, on the inside I’m kind of rooting for this town because I grew up here. On the outside … f-them. I need to make my living.
SS: But what about drugs. Drugs are bad and selling or dealing via kids is not good either.
HC: I never mentioned drugs, and won’t. Plus, I still put the blame on Marilyn Manson and Eminem.
SS: Well, thank you for your time.
HC: No problem. Next time you’re out I’ll take you on a ride on my barge. I call her the Khetanna.