Demented Little Tango with Vinson Cunningham
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I'm Eric Glass. On This American Life, we tell real-life stories, really good ones. My mother said, I'm sorry you weren't here because Father Sager was here visiting and he found a very nice orphanage for you. And I said, but I'm not an orphan. Surprising stories every week, This American Life. Listen wherever you get your podcasts. ♪

Hello and welcome to Normal Gossip. I'm your host, Rachel Hampton. And in each episode of this podcast, we're going to bring you an anonymous morsel of gossip from the real world. We have only got two more episodes of season eight after this week, if you can believe it.

But have no fear. If you have been listening to the past few episodes or following us on Instagram at normal gossip, then you know that this September, Sierra and I are bringing normal gossip to nine different cities. We are stopping in New York, Boston, Seattle, Portland, Oregon, Denver, Dallas, Austin, Chicago, and Minneapolis.

Tickets went on sale to the public on Friday, May 9th. So that means that if you are listening right now in this moment and live in any of those cities, you can go buy a ticket immediately at normalgossiplive.com. Every show has exclusive VIP tickets that include a meet and greet with Sierra and I. So I hope you're all workshopping what

delicious little tidbits of gossip are gonna bring us i know we're close to four months out but a little birdie did tell me that minneapolis boston and portland are selling particularly fast so if you live in those cities and have been considering buying a ticket i'd do it soon

That is all the housekeeping for today's show. Now, on to the gossip. Today, I'm so excited to be joined by one of my absolute favorite writers in the whole wide world, Vincent Cunningham. Vincent is a staff writer at The New Yorker, where he's written about theater and television. He's also a co-host of Critics at Large, which is The New Yorker's weekly culture podcast. Last year, he published a gorgeous novel called Great Expectations.

Yes, there's another very famous novel with that title, but let's be real here. Vincent's is better. It's a semi-autobiographical novel about a young Black man working on the historical presidential campaign of a Black senator from Illinois. Yes, I know that sounds familiar. Yes, it is who you think it is.

Yes, it is so good. It came out in paperback, and I truly think everyone should go out and buy it right now. But without further ado, here's the man, the myth, the legend himself, Vincent. Hello. Hey. Thank you so much for joining me. This is my total pleasure. This is the best. To be on a podcast with somebody I already like to talk to.

Joy. I'm so excited to gossip with you. I already know that you're good at gossip because I've heard you gossip before. Wow. I can't even pretend on this podcast that I don't do that. Well, perfect, because I have to ask you, what's your relationship with gossip? And we love honesty and transparency on this podcast. Well, as you just exposed for me, sometimes I do, in fact, gossip.

I do still feel, though, that and maybe the reason that I do it when I feel empowered and equipped to do so is that generally I am not a good receiver of gossip. I feel like I don't know what it is. Maybe I have like cop energy. Maybe I have church boy energy, whatever it is. People tend not to tell me like just like weird things.

lurid secrets which is of course the fuel of all good causes i don't know or it's taken me a while for that to be the condition of my life um i often analogize it to this you know there's just a big party and then you learn that there's cocaine in the bathroom no one has ever told me about the cocaine i never know that there's drugs i'm always the one from whom it is hit in plain sight

Okay, having been to a party with you, I can pretty confidently say that you don't have cop energy, but I am going to give you a chance to prove your gossip credentials. A little birdie told me you have some gossip for me. I do. A guy that I sort of knew, like a friend of a friend, which is the perfect person to hear gossip about, in high school, went to another, a different private school in New York City. And...

These are schools where you always kind of know other people in your grade, even though they don't go to your school. You go to a party, they're there. They're like people from other schools in this like network of private schools are always kind of drifting in and out of your consciousness. This kid was also a party promoter in high school. And a kid who, even when we were 16, 17, was throwing parties. Yeah.

securing venues. How is a 16-year-old securing venues? Listen, because of his rich parents. So he got, in our senior year, expelled from a school not far from my school. And I have a friend who was in the cafeteria at this school on the day in question. This kid, we'll call him Daniel. Okay. Daniel busts into...

the cafeteria with a cigarette between his forefinger and middle finger yelling, fuck blank school. Fuck all the various administrators of blank school. Fuck Dean of students who was hot on his heels as this occurred. Daniel, before he can be stopped, jumps up onto a chair and then onto a table.

gives his sort of final will and testament about the school. He's going out in a blaze of glory. The dean of student accosts him and drags him out of the cafeteria. Oh my God. Now, this is a true story because I knew someone who was on the scene. But as these things occur, the legend grows. Again, as I mentioned, this kid was a very rich guy. So over the next months and years, this legend lived on in New York City private schools that he paid off a cab driver early that morning

drove it onto the grounds of the school, drove it through the gates onto the middle of the green, crashed into a gate and started his stampede of glory, which ended

in this cafeteria. Oh my God. Wait, so why did Daniel decide to go on a rampage? Why was he like, fuck this school? Because he'd gotten away with everything that it was possible to get away with. Oh, it was just a power trip? And then he finally got kicked out of school and he said, you know what? I'm tearing this motherfucker apart.

Renting a cab for a day just to come into your cafeteria to say fuck all of you. I mean, I'm going to be honest. That's how I wanted to go out of high school too. Vincent, that was incredible gossip. And also, you managed to perfectly sync up with the gossip that I'm about to tell you. Oh my God. Are you ready? Yes. Yes.

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Today, our friend of a friend is named Ellen, and Ellen is in her mid to late 40s. And maybe one of the most important things to know about Ellen is that she has lived in Manhattan and specifically in the West Village for her entire life. Ellen's vibe is champagne socialist. Okay, I understand.

Both of Ellen's daughters attended a private K-12, but she also donated to Bernie Sanders and AOC. She contains multitudes. Are you familiar with this vibe? Ellen is, I mean, a legend in my own mind already. I know her. I see her. What are you seeing? Well, she wears loose clothing. She wears black leather flats. This year, she's moved on to the two great trends of 2025.

the comfortable ballet flat or the simple Mary Jane. She wears statement jewelry, rings on top of rings. Ellen owns so she has a ring drawer. You're right. You're right. Vincent, you have perfectly described Ellen.

Like a lot of parents, Ellen's life revolves around her daughter's school, which is a private grade through 12. Okay. It's the kind of school that has multiple kilns for the ceramics classes. They've got a 500 square foot greenhouse so that they can bring nature directly to the students. Yeah.

For the purposes of this story, I'm going to be calling this school Briarwood Academy. Ellen's oldest daughter just graduated from Briarwood, while her youngest daughter just started eighth grade there. And Ellen isn't really looking forward to the school year for a few different reasons.

The first one is that her oldest daughter has decided to take a gap year before she starts at Stanford, which would be all well and good, except that instead of backpacking around Europe or like building schools in South America, this child has decided to spend this gap year at home interning for one of Ellen's longtime frenemies, Hazel. What does Hazel do? Oh, no.

Well, are you someone who avoids having frenemies or are you someone who's like sort of energized by their presence? See, it depends on what frenemy means. But no, like everybody that I actually spend time with and talk to and would call me a friend, I actually wish only the best. I would say I have frenemies from afar, people who are nemeses to

You know, like I look at them and like I'm sort of annoyed by their presence in their career or whatever. And then I get to know them and they're OK. But I'm still like, hmm, that's the closest I get. But I don't have like in my life frenemies who call me and nag me and shit. Yeah, yeah, yeah. That's a good way to live your life. Like you shouldn't have people who are preying on your downfall in your immediate orbit. That is 100 percent true.

Yeah, Hazel and Ellen are both in that second group of people who are energized by having frenemies. They both have two kids who are the exact same age, which means they've been battling it out in the same PTA meetings for like nearly two decades now. Oh.

And where Ellen is a champagne socialist, Hazel is an espresso martini capitalist. Oh, shit. She's not always wearing a power suit, but, like, spiritually she is, you know? I understand. She runs a very, very successful boutique PR agency. Yeah.

Okay. So an invite to her Christmas party usually means brushing elbows with like a Hilton or a Getty. Fair enough. So we're talking Eileen Fisher instead of whatever else I described. Or like even above, like we might be talking about like two seasons ago, Dior, etc. Yes. Yes. I understand.

So when Hazel offers Ellen's daughter an internship, Ellen is like, I can't even be too mad because my daughter is so excited. But also, I hate this woman. Do you think this is a good idea? Would you allow your child to be taken under the wing of a girl boss? The obvious answer here, I think, is that you have to allow it. Oh, say more. Two fronts, personal and structural.

If you disagree with the politics or the sort of activity that Hazel represents, expressing that to your potentially Republican child will drive them into the arms of this Mitt Romney sounding lady.

It will turn her into the worst libertarian, right? That's so true. And similarly, if the problem is purely personal, here is a iron clad rule. The moment you first notice your parent simply hating is impossible to forget. And it always makes you wonder what it is that the parent sees in the other person that has occasioned

this jealousy, antagonism, frenemyship, et cetera. You have to make sure that your kid never sees you sweat in that kind of interpersonal way. You can express outright hatred, but if it's just hating, you cannot let that show. And it will similarly drive your child into the arms of Hazel, who it seems like she already sort of admires. You got to let that rock.

Yeah, if it was any other year, Hazel brainwashing her daughter into hustle culture would be at the top of Ellen's list of concerns. But this year, Ellen also has to worry about the fact that her other daughter has just entered eighth grade. And eighth grade is a really important year at Briarwood Academy. Every year, all three classes of eighth graders at Briarwood participate in a semester-long fundraiser.

And whichever class wins the fundraiser by raising the most money gets to choose the theme for the annual eighth grade graduation party. The last time Ellen had been through this fundraiser with her oldest daughter had almost killed her. Yeah.

Are you competitive? Do you consider yourself competitive? I'm very competitive. And yet I feel that it is. And maybe this goes to my point about like not showing yourself sweat to your kids. I feel that it's usually gauche to express it, especially like in your own career. So I save my competitiveness for spades. Like if anybody wants to play me in spades, come see me and I'll talk so much shit to you. It will it will seem out of character.

Um, but in real life with like my own career, I like put up a veneer mostly of like, I'm just minding my own business. I was going to say, Vincent, you should teach me how to play spades, but I'm realizing that learning spades from a competitive player is actually not good at all because I don't think you want me to be your partner. It's fine until you're my partner. I can teach you and I can be over your shoulder while you play with somebody else. Okay. Okay. Okay. I'll take that. I'll take that. Yeah. Um,

One of my friends who you also know is very, very competitive. Like it's not enough for her to win. The person she's winning against has to feel bad about losing. Like she hates competing against me because most of the time I'm kind of just happy to be there. I'm like, I'm so happy you won. And she's like, fuck you. That doesn't count as winning if you're not upset. Yeah. The other amazing thing about this person, our friend, is that the moment she sees somebody do something impressive, she says out loud, I could do that.

I think I could do that. She says it with a tenacity and a violence that's like sort of unsettling. It is. And I love to see it because usually she can do it. And when she can't do it, it's really funny to see. This is the kind of person that Ellen also is. Okay. She's usually pretty good at suppressing it or channeling it into her work as an art buyer. And.

And she had tried really, really hard to suppress it during her first eighth grade fundraiser at Briarwood, and that had not worked out. Like, things got ugly. Our girl Ellen may or may not have sabotaged another classroom's bake sale by spreading a rumor that the baked goods weren't nut or gluten-free. Holy shit. Had that bake sale been organized by Ellen's frenemy, Hazel, who could say? Ha ha ha ha ha!

But Ellen has buried that version of herself. It has been four years since then. A whole presidential administration. Ellen is taking CBD now. Ellen has a meditation app. Ellen is not going to get too involved this year. How are you feeling so far? Ellen needs to take up a sport immediately. Yeah.

Get into rugby, girl. I mean, yes, suppression, first of all, never works. And also, too much of her competitive energy is making its way into the lives of her children. She has to take up tennis.

Well, for the first couple of weeks of the school year, everything goes pretty fine. Like Ellen's oldest daughter is having a great time at her internship and she hasn't asked for a skirt suit or a copy of Lean In yet. So, so far, so good. Good. Thank God. And for a hot minute, it seems like the annual eighth grade fundraiser might even be pretty tame this year.

So, like I said, there are three eighth grade classes at Briarwood. From here on out, we're going to be referring to these classes as classes A, B, and C. So, Ellen's daughter is in class A.

Hazel's youngest son is in Class B, and there's no one we care about in Class C. So fundraising starts off relatively chill. At first, there are like bake sales and craft fairs and things of that nature. And these are all mostly engineered by the children themselves. But things start going off the rails when the silent auction rolls around.

Now, Briarwood parents are the kind of people that could very easily donate, like, dinner on a private yacht or a magnum of champagne or whatever rich people have. I don't really know, but they could donate a lot of shit. So to stop things from getting too crazy, the biggest rule for the silent auction is that nothing can be auctioned off that the kids did not obtain themselves. Okay. Yeah.

Obtain? By what means? Well, so at first the auction items include like a personal flash mob by the eighth grade dance team or a cutting from the heritage roses that are growing in the Briarwood greenhouse. Okay. Okay. But

I'm sure you can guess that these are the kind of parents that always find a way to get involved. So one student in class B has a dad who's like a longtime theater producer in the city. And the producer has this kid write a note to a Broadway star begging for her to take part in the Briarwood fundraiser. And the producer hand delivers this note to the Broadway star's dressing room.

So now one of the items for auction is a private dinner with this Broadway star. Class A, the class that has Ellen's daughter in it, refuses to take this lying down. One of the kids in Class A, their mom's best friend, is a celebrity fitness instructor. So when the kid asks if their mom's friend will donate a lifetime membership to her classes... A lifetime? Of course the celebrity fitness instructor says yes. This is...

This is insane. Do you think any of this constitutes cheating? It's all cheating, obviously. It should be. This war of nepotistic escalation must end. This is ridiculous. Own means means like, you know, you have to forage it.

You need to go to Central Park and forage it yourself. Yeah. Make some grains from fucking dandelions found on one of those dividers between the sides of Broadway. What are you talking about? Anyway. Ellen is determined not to care. Her meditation app just dropped a new course on somatic breath work. Oh, God. New year, new Ellen. Okay. Okay.

All of that changes one night when Ellen's oldest daughter is telling her about her day interning for Hazel, Ellen's frenemy. And the daughter is like, I spent all day on the phone. And Ellen's like, well, yeah, that sounds about right for a PR job. But her daughter's like, no, this was different. Hazel had the spreadsheet of clients we had to call to see if they had any items they wanted to donate for some benefit Hazel was throwing. It was so boring. Yeah.

And reflexively, Ellen is like, charitable giving is very important for people with the means to do so.

But then Ellen kind of pauses because she's always just a little bit suspicious when it comes to literally anything that Hazel does. So Ellen's like, what kind of items are we talking about? And her daughter's like, Mom, I know you hate Hazel, but she's kind of incredible at her job. People gave her so much shit. Like someone donated a wheel of cheese imported from Italy, like right from the border of Parmigiano and Reggiano. Ha ha! Ha ha ha!

She got that Reggiano. She went and got that Reg. Oh, man, that's crazy.

And then a former chef of Carbone is offering up a private pasta making class and someone else donated this ugly broom that costs $600. How would you respond to this? Ellen, you have already messed up if your daughter ever has the occasion to say to you, I know you hate X. And yet they are great at their job. You should just lay down and call for the Lord to take you. That is, it's over for you. Does she suspect yet?

That the daughter is talking about the eighth grade fundraiser. Does she suspect? Well, Ellen's like, I may hate Hazel and also think that Hazel's affinity for Tory Burch is a little tacky. But as a feminist, I will not tear this woman down in front of my daughter. So Ellen tells her daughter, I don't hate Hazel.

Ergo, Ellen does have her antenna up. Ellen is suspicious. And she only gets more suspicious the next day when one of her Briarwood parent friends tells her that apparently Class B had received some incredible new donations for the silent auction that everyone's being really tight-lipped about. What do you do with this information? She has two options and two options only. Oh!

What are the two options? So it's either 100% ignore, forget you heard it. And from then on, tell the daughter for fundraiser related reasons, I can't know about anything that you tell me. Like totally forget, renounce. Or establish a new Gmail address and send an anonymous tip to the authorities. There is no other way. If she tries a third path, she's going to get burned.

Ellen takes the lighter side option that you give. Ellen's like, I'm Zen. I'm different this year. She takes a little CBD gummy and she mutes the notifications on her parent group chat. Ellen, shout out to you. Her little gummy is just kicked in when her younger daughter comes home from school and she's looking a little dejected. And Ellen's immediately like, what's wrong? Are you okay? Yeah.

Her daughter's like, nothing's wrong. It's just this stupid fundraiser we're going to lose. And Ellen's like, how do you know you're going to lose? You've got a whole month left. And her daughter sort of sighs and then she's like, mom, do you promise to be chill? And Ellen's like, yes, I told you I'm different now. And so her daughter tells her that the final auction list went out and the items for sale by Class B include not just a private dinner with a Broadway star, but a

They include a wheel of cheese imported from Italy, right from the border of Parmigiano and Reggiano. She put that reg on auction. They include a private pasta-making class by a former chef at Carbone. And a broom made by hand from heritage wood worth $600. Do you think this constitutes cheating? Yeah, of course it's cheating!

Ellen's like, this is where I draw the line. She's like, I am the only person allowed to exploit my oldest daughter's labor for personal gain. Our girl is like, call me Ellen Snowden because I am blowing that whistle. Ha ha ha ha!

That's right. She sent a very polite email to the teacher of her daughter's class the next morning outlining her suspicions that Hazel's son had in fact not been involved at all with soliciting the donations. And by the morning after that, all hell has broken loose. The school was able to pretty easily determine that Ellen was telling the truth because Hazel didn't take the operational security course at Girlboss Academy. Yeah.

The school returns all the items Hazel had donated after seeing the undeleted track changes made by the interns in Hazel's little donation spreadsheet. Oh, no. Let me find out Hazel's IT department is bad. She's supposed to be a girl boss. Right? Oh, my God. Obsec. Hazel. Obsec. Obsec. Let me find out she's doing unsecure bullshit.

So after the auction, a very strongly worded email sent to every parent of an eighth grade student. And the email basically says that going forward, only money raised by students would count toward the final classroom total. And parents are to limit their involvement to volunteering. Also, auctions are no longer allowed. Do you think this will calm down these rich parents? Yeah.

Do I think this will calm them down? Yeah. Do you think they'll chill out? No, they're going to say, first of all, that New York City social fundraising life is

is nothing but auctions. You can't raise money without an auction, I think that they would say. Somebody has a parent annoying enough to say that this is discrimination against kids with wealthy parents. And you're right. And then somebody's going to know immediately, because this is how things happen, that this all happened because one person was upset about one thing. They might not know about Ellen and Hazel and their demented little tango.

But they will know that it is about some personal grievance and that will come up and it will cause a tea party at this school. This is not at all the end of this story. Ellen agrees with you. Ellen's like, I don't think this is going to do too much. But Ellen's like, I got my lick back. I engineered my frenemy's downfall yet again. And I am back to the original plan of not getting involved. Being cool. Yeah, that's right.

Luckily, Ellen's got plenty to keep her occupied because Halloween is fast approaching and Ellen loves Halloween. And after years of lobbying her co-op board, Ellen has finally landed the Halloween decorating coup of the century. Vincent, have you seen the 12 foot tall Halloween skeleton? Yes, the Halloween skeleton is more and more visible, more and more a part of the life of America as I see it. It's a huge thing.

Yeah. So the 12 foot tall Halloween skeleton is exactly what it sounds like, which is a freestanding 12 foot tall skeleton that is used for Halloween decoration. It is sold from Home Depot. According to Business Insider, it is affectionately known as Skelly. Skelly.

It costs $299 and it has LED illuminated eyes that follow trick-or-treaters. So for years, Ellen has wanted nothing more than to install a 12-foot tall skeleton outside her home. And if Ellen lived in the suburbs, this dream could be achieved very simply by purchasing the skeleton. But Ellen lives in the West Village in a co-op that, like most West Village co-ops, has a very involved co-op board. Mm-hmm.

So before Ellen can even purchase a 12-foot-tall skeleton, she has to get approval from her co-op board, which for years she has been unable to do. But this year, Ellen's persistence has finally paid off. In early October, Ellen was given permission to purchase and install not just one, but two 12-foot-tall skeletons right in front of her co-op. Oh my God.

What would you do if you were walking down like Christopher Street in the West Village and saw two 12 foot tall skeletons? I mean, the things you can see on Christopher Street, I feel like the 12 foot tall skeleton is the safe zone. That's like the most wholesome thing that's ever happened on Christopher Street. But I would also shriek in delight. Yeah.

Ellen is filled with joy every time she sees these skeletons. It is better than she has been dreaming of all these years. Every five-year-old in a mile radius becomes obsessed with this co-op. But even better, Ellen's 12-foot-tall skeletons had caught the attention of the coolest person on Ellen's block, Patricia. ♪♪

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Patricia is like old, old money rich. Like, it's giving Gilded Age. It's giving down Abby. What this means is that Patricia doesn't give a single fuck what anyone thinks of her. She has been married and divorced three times. And now that her two sons are off at college, people in the neighborhood have seen her on dates with a series of really hot, mostly younger guys. She's like,

She's notoriously terrible at parallel parking, despite being a lifelong New Yorker and will often ask one of her neighbors to come park her car. There are rumors that she grows pot on her roof. Patricia! Ellen's obsessed with her. As anyone would have to be. And Ellen has heard from her neighbors, who are also obsessed with Patricia, that Patricia's been cited standing and admiring the 12-foot-tall skeletons at least twice in the past week. Amazing. Amazing.

Ellen has run into Patricia in front of the 12 with tall skeletons herself, but it's only a matter of time. How would you strike up a conversation with your glamorous divorcee stoner neighbor? I would approach the Madam Mayflower of Christopher Street. Yeah.

and say hey like i like yeah i've always seen you on this block what's up like just one of those things like oh i see you around you like the skeleton and if there was an answer to the affirmative i would say i would have to take credit is what i would do like those are mine i spent 600 dollars on those skeletons that's right and then we would like start to have a conversation about halloween we would just like we'd just be like yeah halloween's kind of my thing and then like

Patricia sounds like the kind of person who might be into it. Yeah. And then off we go. Yeah, this is actually really similar to the tactic that Ellen is workshopping. She just doesn't have a chance to deploy it because one night she's coming home from getting ice cream with her daughter. And as they get closer to their block, they see there's like a huge commotion outside their co-op. There's a crowd of people along with two cop cars, which is not normal.

And as Ellen gets closer, she sees Patricia's fabulous head of hair among the people in the crowd. Very easily recognizable. It's like seeing Julia Roberts in the wild. Most of the co-op board members are also in the crowd, like, looking pissed. And there are three or four police officers there

And then two boys sitting on the ground in front of them. And the boys look to be in their late teens or early 20s. And lying on the ground in front of them is something that Ellen can't quite make out. Like from a distance, it kind of looks like a really long version of the cardboard tube that's inside a toilet paper roll.

Ellen pushes her way through the little crowd, allegedly because she wants to get into her home, but really she is being nosy, as I would also be in this situation. And it's not until Ellen is right in front of the co-op that she realizes that the two boys sitting on the ground are Patricia's sons, who are supposed to be away at college, and that the object on the ground in front of them is either a foot-long joint or a very convincing replica. What kind of true crime shit is happening? Yeah.

Yes. So apparently Patricia had waxed poetic about the 12 foot tall skeletons to her two sons who had taken the train down from Columbia to pull what I have to admit is kind of an iconic prank. They just thought it would be really funny to put a foot long joint into the giant hand of one of the 12 foot tall skeletons. Oh, hijinks. I like that. This is great. These guys are funny.

Yeah, someone had seen them, like, skulking around the building and called the cops. But luckily or unluckily, depending on how you think about it, the footlong joint is just a prop, so there's no weed in it. Okay, okay. Good. Innocent fun. So the only real charge possible is trespassing. And Ellen convinces her co-op board to not press charges. She's like, I'm the one who bought the skeletons, and I'm not offended at all. She's like, honestly, I think it'd be funny to leave the joint. The co-op board does not agree with that last part. Fair enough.

But they all know Patricia's family is really influential, so they're like, fine, we won't press charges. Good. That's two good things in a row that Anna's done for Patricia. As a parent, if your kid did something dumb and potentially criminal but also a little funny, do you admit to them that it's funny? Yes. 100%.

I hope so. I hope that I would have the integrity to do that. But yeah, you have to. This is how they get to know you, especially when they're in college. This is now your time to introduce yourself to them as a person. Yeah. So if they did that when they were 11, you'd have to get pretty pissed about it and only let slip your actual feelings much later. But these are sounds like rambunctious American boys of 19 or 20.

And they deserve to know the red-blooded truth about their mom, Patricia. Yeah. Patricia seems very chill about the situation, which makes sense for her. She emails Ellen to be like, thank you for being so gracious to my idiot sons. I would love to have you over for a real joint one of these nights. Everything's coming up, Ellen. Everything's coming up, Ellen. And it's the final week of the eighth grade fundraiser. And so Ellen's at home.

And her youngest daughter comes home from school. And before Ellen can even say, hi, sweetie, her daughter's like, mom, you promised it was different this time. And Ellen's got no idea what's going on. She's like, what are you talking about? And her daughter's like, you promised you would be chill. And now Ellen's like a little offended because she has been so chill and it's been so hard. Ellen's like, I was chill. I've been so chill. I haven't sabotaged anyone. Ha ha ha ha.

I haven't sabotaged anyone. And internally, she's like, yeah, I ratted out Hazel, but no one knows about that.

Do you think Ellen's identity as a whistleblower is safe? It was never safe. I just hope this doesn't ruin things with Patricia. Well, Ellen's daughter tells her that a couple kids had seen Patricia stop by Briarwood the Friday before. She had gone into the administrative offices, which is weird. Like, Patricia's sons had gone to Briarwood, but they're in college. They both graduated like at least a year ago.

And so Patricia's visit apparently got the rumor mill started. And over the weekend, a possible explanation starts floating around the Briarwood parent group chats. Apparently, there had been some suspicion when the situation with Patricia's sons and Ellen's 12-foot-tall skeletons got smoothed over so quickly. Like, everyone knows how hard Ellen campaigned for those skeletons. Yeah.

And the rumor mill has settled on one explanation. Ellen has obviously blackmailed Patricia into donating to her daughter's classroom in exchange for not pressing charges. What? Or at least that's a story that Ellen's daughter has seemingly heard. These people are sick. Ellen's horrified. She's like, my love for Patricia is pure. I would never blackmail her. I would never bring her into this sordid world of intrigue and lies.

Patricia's from the good side. Ellen's daughter just rolls her eyes and is like, yeah, well, if you blackmailed someone, we at least better win. Class A wants to have the eighth grade party at Topgolf, and Topgolf sucks. Ellen's like, I didn't blackmail anyone. I'm innocent. This is a twisted tale. Have you ever walked into a room and just kind of known people were talking about you? Yeah, unfortunately, it's the worst.

When that happens, you have to call a meeting. You have to just banish the secret immediately. You got to do like a...

And like clear the air. Yeah, this is the really bad feeling Ellen gets when she walks into the Briarwood Benefit, which is the last event of the eighth grade fundraiser. It's where the winner is announced. And it is abundantly clear that as soon as Ellen walks in that absolutely everyone has heard this rumor about her. Like the parents in her daughter's class are all like, good job, Ellen. Like it really sounds like Patricia has made a donation, but no one knows how much.

Meanwhile, the parents in the other classes are all glaring at her, including Hazel, obviously. They're nearing the part of the night where they're going to announce the final totals. And at this point, Ellen has heard this rumor that she has blackmailed Patricia so many times that she's low-key convinced it might be true. Like, everyone else seems so sure. Oh, God. Yeah.

Ellen obviously knows she didn't blackmail anyone, but she's like, maybe since me and Patricia are buddies now, she really did do me a solid. And for the first time since that year's eighth grade fundraiser started, Ellen allows herself to think, maybe my kid will win. Has Ellen promised herself she wasn't going to get involved? Yes. But it's too late for that. And against her will, Ellen has been involved and now Ellen wants to win. Wow.

So she's on the edge of her seat as the principal takes to the stage to read out the final totals. First, the principal reads out the total of the classroom with Hazel's son in it. They raised $15,000. Then it gets so quiet you can hear a pin drop. And the principal says, class A has done an incredible job. This is the class that Ellen's daughter is in.

The principal says, class A has raised just over $17,000. There are even more gaps. And everyone turns to look at Ellen, who is like struggling to maintain composure. She's like, I have no idea how to feel. Like, obviously, she's proud because she, well, her daughter had won.

But Ellen's also like, my daughter's victory has been tainted by these rumors of blackmail. Like, does this even count if I win and everyone thinks I cheated to do it? And it says Ellen is thinking all of this that the principal reads out the total for class C, the class that no one had really cared about, that no one had ever even suspected might win. Yeah.

Class C has done exceptionally well, the principal says. They've raised $23,000. The principal's like, Class C has won the annual Briarwood 8th grade fundraiser. Let's all give them a round of applause. Mm-hmm. Ha, ha, ha, ha.

So apparently while class A and B were surveilling and sabotaging and slinging mud at each other, class C had kind of just put their heads down and done the work. Like, no one really knows how they did it, but it doesn't really matter. Right.

All that mattered is that Class C got to decide the theme of that year's 8th grade party, and they decided to have a lock-in at the Natural History Museum, which, after some grumbling, everyone agreed was at least better than Topgolf. That's right. And that's basically the end of our story. Do you think there are any villains here? Any? This tale is thick with villains.

And they're villainy. Hazel, just cheater, liar, daughter appropriator. Need I go on? You made me wheeze. Ellen, a hater and a snitch. It's true. Although I feel for her because you and your telling imbued her with such a rich humanity and her protagonism really shone through for me.

Petty villainy, really, at the end of the day. But the sons of Patricia, obviously, I mean, literal criminals. True. Trespassers at the very least. The daughter, the older daughter. What kind of two-timing hussy is that? No loyalty. This heifer, what is she doing? Why is she playing both sides? What's up with her?

I'm sorry. That gets me on the wrong side of the straight man thing. I don't know what we should call her. No, honestly, bring it back. We haven't been using husky in a while. It's like city. Yeah. Younger daughter. Rude. Mom, you promise. Mom, don't freak out. A lot of little shots, little jabs happening from the little smart mouth young lady.

These are all good choices. There's no, the only non-villain is Patricia. The story is redeemed by the presence of Patricia. I don't know why she went to the office.

Well, actually, I have some little postscripts that might answer some questions. Oh, my God. First, after the dust had settled and the eighth graders had enjoyed their night at the museum, Briarwood called a big student and parent assembly. The administration had felt that the spirit of philanthropy had started to be lost in their annual eighth grade fundraiser. So going forward, classes could only do acts of service and not fundraising. Wow. Wow.

And also, one beautiful summer night, Ellen does go smoke a joint on Patricia's roof. She gets the highest she has ever been in her entire life. She's like, Patricia, this is the best weed I've ever had. What's your secret? And Patricia's like, it's the fertilizer up at Briarwood. It's incredible stuff.

Apparently, while Patricia's kids were in school, she learned that her weed loved the fertilizer that Briarwood used in their greenhouse, and it could only be bought in bulk. So Patricia just buys a bag or two from the school every so often, which is why the kids had seen her in the administrative office. Wow. Patricia's still batting a thousand for me. Patricia's still our favorite in this story. That's right. Yeah. She supports local business, local education. She's like...

Keeping her money in the neighborhood. In the neighborhood? Yeah, yeah, yeah. It's true. Buy back the block, et cetera. Yes, yes, exactly. That's the end of our story, Vincent. Oh my God. It's just so stressed out. It stressed me out a lot because, you know, children are involved. People's reputations are involved. Obviously, Ellen has done some pretty sordid things in the past and like any protagonist is trying to make themselves known.

And change is so hard and impossible the older we get. It's true. And that's rough. Maybe Ellen graduating from CBD to THC will send her on the right path. Yes, absolutely. She needs to get high.

Thank you for listening to Normal Gossip. If you have a gossip story to share with us, email us at normalgossip at defector.com. Or you can leave us a voicemail at 2679-GOSSIP. If you love this podcast and want to support us, become a friend or a friend of a friend at supportnormalgossip.com. You can follow the show on Instagram and TikTok at normalgossip. You can follow me on all social media at heydenae, H-E-Y-Y-D-N-A-E.

This podcast was produced by Sarah Spragley-Ritz and Jay Tolviera. Thank you to Samantha Gacic, our audio engineer. And thank you to Danielle Hewitt for your additional production help this season. The co-creators and Dowager Queen's Norma Gossip are Alex Dujon-Loughlin and Kelsey McKinney.

Justin Ellis is Defectors Projects Editor. Jasper Wang and Sean Coon are Defectors Business Guys. Alex Dujong-Loughlin is Defectors Supervising Producer. Tom Leigh is our Editor-in-Chief. Dan McQuaid runs our merch store, which you can find at normalgossip.store. Tara Jacoby designed our show art.

Thank you to Catherine Chu, Brandi Jensen, Luis Pérez-Pumar, Chris Thompson, Jasper Wang, Sabrina Embler, Dave McKenna, Patrick Redford, and Ray Rado for all your help on this season. Thank you to the rest of the Defector staff. Defector Media is a collectively owned subscriber-based media company. Normal Gossip is a proud member of Radiotopia. I'm your host, Rachel Hampton. And remember, you didn't hear this from me. Radiotopia.

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