Accidentally Kidnapping Our New Best Friend Derek Thompson
Coastal-elite, liberal arts-educated, moderately progressive cousins Ben and Caleb are about to meet their hero, Derek Thompson. Derek is a podcaster for The Ringer and a writer for The Atlantic—two media institutions where the less successful Ben and Caleb would die to work. In an age of hot takes, misinformation, and headline-deep opinions, Derek brings his audience perspective. And his topics almost always hit the zeitgeist of Ben and Caleb’s world.
“Are you gonna ask him for producer credit on the Radical Human Life Extension episode?” Caleb asks as they walk toward the green room.
“I don’t know, maybe,” Ben checks for pit stains. They’re prominent. “Are you sweating?”
“Yes, and I might also start crying. If I do, I’ll pretend I’m about to sneeze and hide behind you so we still look cool.”
“Good idea.”
Ben’s mom organizes live events for the local NPR station. Tonight’s event is a live taping of Derek Thompson’s podcast, which Ben and Caleb have had marked on their calendars for the past six months. They joke that their goal in meeting Derek is to become best friends forever, but everyone knows they’re dead serious. Probably because Caleb framed a copy of Derek’s latest book on his wall and Ben starts every conversation with, “have you heard the latest Plain English episode yet?”
Deep down, they know they aren’t joking either. They’ve been devising elaborate schemes to make it happen, which has involved deep dives into Derek’s personal life. “It’s not creepy if it’s what Derek would do for one of his guests,” Ben texted Caleb at 1:39 a.m. two days earlier. He had just discovered that Derek was a triple major in journalism, political science, and legal studies in college. “So freaking impressive bro.”
Amy, Ben’s mom, opens the door to the green room, and it feels like everything is moving in slow motion for the 32 year-old boys. The moment they’ve been waiting for, preparing for, and willing to die for is finally here. Even though their BPMs are at surefire heart-attack levels, the moment isn’t too big. In fact, they’ve practiced this introduction hundreds of times over the past six months in Ben’s basement apartment, which happens to be located in his mom’s house. They know exactly where to stand, what to say, and how to ingratiate themselves into Derek’s good graces.
“Hi, Derek, is it alright if I introduce you to my son and nephew?” Amy nails her opening line.
“Of course. Hi, Derek Thompson,” Derek says, extending his hand.
Ben shakes it and introduces himself, followed by Caleb. They quickly transition from insightful and humorous small talk to deep dives into some of Derek’s recent episodes and articles. Ben and Caleb exchange glances to confirm this is real and not a dream as they listen to Derek extrapolate on the historical parallels between today’s generation and those of centuries past. There’s even inspirational music playing in the background, thanks to whoever is DJ’ing the local NPR station.
Then there’s a knock at the door. “Derek, we’re gonna need to start getting prepped.”
“Wow, time flies,” he says.
“Hey, I know you probably just want to get back to your hotel room and crash after this, but there’s a chill dive bar across the street if you want to grab a drink afterward. Would love to finish our conversation about the intersection of AI and ketamine among progressive-Republican Silicon Valley entrepreneurs,” Caleb offers.
“I’d love that.”
“Great!” Ben and Caleb respond a little too excitedly—their one near misstep during the entire interaction. They exit the green room. “Break a leg out there!”
Amy meets them in the hallway and offers to take them to their reserved seats, but they tell her they’re going to get some fresh air before the show starts. They walk outside, and after a moment of silence, they break into exuberant celebration. They dance, shout, laugh, and jump up and down in each other’s arms as if they’ve just won the Super Bowl.
After a solid 30 seconds, they bend over with their hands on their knees, catching their breath and regaining composure.
“Alright. Phase 2?”
“Phase 2.”
Then they do one of those handshakes where you clasp each other’s entire forearm like Viking soldiers.
***
The show is amazing, but Ben and Caleb can’t help thinking they would’ve made better guests than the Rhodes Scholar Derek interviewed on stage. A few fans gather in the lobby to meet Derek, which isn’t unexpected, but it does pose the risk of tiring him out before they have a chance to get drinks with him across the street. So Ben and Caleb wait in the wings as Derek shakes hands and exchanges pleasantries with the lesser fans—ones he’ll surely forget once their interactions are over, unlike Ben and Caleb.
Finally, Derek appears to be wrapping up. He’s about to say something to Amy when Ben and Caleb cut in to remind him of their drink commitment from earlier.
“Oh, that’s right,” Derek says.
Classic Derek, playing coy, the boys think.
“You know, I may have underestimated how much this was going to take out of me,” Derek says as he checks his watch.
“If only you didn’t have to deal with all those annoying fans after the show,” Ben says to his mom. She laughs, thinking Ben is pointing out the irony of two fans currently pressuring Derek to get drinks. She couldn’t be more wrong. “I gotta run, but thanks so much again, Derek.”
“You know, I kinda feel you,” Caleb forces a fake yawn. “We’ll just give you a ride back to your hotel. It’s on our way home anyway.”
“How do you know where my hotel is?”
“Ugh… assuming you’re at the Kimpton? That’s where my mom has most of the guest speakers stay, but I could be wrong.” He’s not wrong, of course. They’d been tailing Derek ever since he got off his plane at Logan Airport.
“Oh, well, in that case…” Derek pauses and looks at his open Lyft app. “Sure. That would be much appreciated.”
The boys exhale and lead Derek to their car. It’s actually Ben’s mom’s car, but he texted her to get an Uber or Lyft home because he needed it.
“I thought you didn’t support Phase 3,” mutters Ben as they wait for the crosswalk sign to change.
“I had to improvise. This is the only way.”
They arrive at the car, and Derek goes to open the backseat. “No, Derek, you get shotgun.”
“Um, okay.”
They all get into the front seat, and Ben starts the car. “So, Derek, I know this might sound weird, but I don’t want you to panic—”
At that moment, Caleb throws an NPR tote bag over Derek’s head. He starts to yell when Ben hits him on the head with a pan.
“OWW! What the fuck?!”
“Hit him again!”
Ben hits him again, and this time Derek goes unconscious. Phase 3 has commenced.
Ben and Caleb arrive at his mom’s house and carry Derek’s limp body out of the backseat and into the basement. He starts to come to, but before he can move, they tie his arms and legs to the chair.
They lift the tote bag from his head. He blinks and shields his eyes from the room’s light. Touching his head, he notices some blood, but it’s not too bad. Ben quickly grabs a bag of frozen peas.
“Here, put this on your head.” Ben remembers his arms are tied to the chair so he does it himself. “Do you want any tea or coffee or something?”
Derek finally regains his vision and sees he’s sitting at a table. The table has three microphones, one directly in front of his face. “What the fuck is going on?”
“We’re making a podcast!” says Caleb.
“Sorry, did you specify tea or coffee?”
***
Six months earlier
Caleb and Ben are sitting in Ben’s mom’s basement, drinking Ben’s stepdad’s IPAs.
“Are you guys drinking my beers?” yells EJ from the top of the basement stairs.
“We would if there were any left!” Ben yells back.
“I had five beers down there!”
“I told you early-onset dementia is a real thing!”
“Hey, fuck you!” They think EJ loves their banter.
“I think that beer elf must’ve snuck in here in the middle of the night again!”
EJ shuts the door, and muffled, frustrated talk can be heard as he vents to Ben’s mom upstairs. He hates that his stepson and cousin are such freeloaders who still have the support of their mothers despite doing nothing with their careers as “podcasters.”
“I was thinking our next pod should be about football replacing baseball as America’s pastime and how it reflects our evolving comfortability with violence in American culture,” says Ben.
“That’s not bad because we can also touch on the dichotomy of football becoming ‘soft.’ Like, when someone gets paralyzed by a blindside to the dome, it’s no longer celebrated—it’s penalized,” adds Caleb.
“That’s such a good dichotomy, dude. I’ve said it a million times, but I’m gonna say it again. You’re a friggin’ genius, cousin.”
“Yeah, well, it doesn’t matter because no one’s going to hear our genius thoughts,” Caleb states solemnly, taking a long sip of his Harpoon.
“That’s just marketing. I think we need a better title.”
“You don’t like 2 White American Males Talking That Talk?”
“I just feel like it’s a little on the nose.”
“That’s the point. We break through the noise of all these podcasts with innuendos and puns in their names.”
“I still think The Broastal Elites would catch on.”
“We’re not gonna shoot up the charts because of a title. We’re sitting outside the clurb right now, and no one’s listening.”
“Would be chill if someone inside the clurb was like, ‘Hey! These guys are with me. They can skip the line.’”
A eureka moment enters Caleb’s brain.
“That’s it.”
“You wanna hit the clurb?”
“No, we need someone in the clurb—the intellectual, coastal-elite podcast clurb—to let us in.”
Caleb’s eureka moment starts to dawn on Ben’s face.
“Want me to hit up Donte? He works Fridays. I think he could get us in, probably get us some drinks for free, but I don’t know if I’d call him ‘intellectual—”
“No! Dude! We need to get an established voice in the industry to back us. How did 2 Chainz make it?”
“He switched his name from Tity Boi to 2 Chainz. We need a new title.”
“No. He made it because he had like 276 features in one year, and one of those was ‘Duffle Bag Boy,’ which made him a household name because Lil Wayne was also on the track. Lil Wayne brought eyeballs, and 2 Chainz came through.”
Ben pauses for a second. “I don’t know, I’m pretty sure he was still Tity Boi at that point. I think his career really took off once he rebranded—”
“Erroneous! No one would’ve cared about his rebrand if he didn’t have eyeballs on him. We need a Lil Wayne.”
“And then we can rebrand to Broastal Elites?”
“We can do whatever we want at that point.”
“So who’s our Weezy F Baby?”
The boys sit on the couch, thinking, as they take long sips of their beers.
***
Back to what’s happening right now.
“Water,” says Derek.
“Hydration is key. Three waters coming right up,” Ben is about to leave and realizes he’s still holding the bag of frozen peas on Derek’s head. “I’m just gonna balance this…” The bag immediately falls off Derek’s head and Ben tries to re-balance it. It immediately falls again and before he can try a third time Derek snaps, “JUST… I’ll just take a water, please.”
“So, Derek, I was thinking we could either continue the AI-Ketamine discussion from earlier,” starts Caleb.
“You guys are fucking insane.”
“Look, we understand this is a lot for you right now,” continues Caleb.
Ben comes back with three waters. “We totally get it.”
“But we’re just like you. I mean, I think we established as much in the green room?” Caleb looks to Ben.
“Yeah, we should’ve been recording that conversation. So many fire thoughts and perspectives. That could’ve been the first episode!”
“You guys were absolutely out of your minds back there. And you,” Derek looks to Ben, “were so sweaty I thought you had food poisoning.”
“But the intersection of ketamine and AI in Silicon Valley entrepreneurs?” Ben asks, confused.
“You literally told me a story about a dude from San Francisco getting fucked up on ketamine and saying AI was gonna take over.”
“Yeah, he was an early investor in Uber or Facebook or something, I mean what am I missing here?” Ben asks Caleb.
“You know nothing about content. You know nothing about the work that goes into each episode. The research, the structure.”
“Alright, maybe you hit him a little too hard in the head with that second pan shot,” jokes Caleb.
Ben cracks up. “Derek. We get it. We’re not pros like you, but trust me when I say… we know content. I mean, if people could just hear the high-level conversations we have—”
“That’s why we need you,” interjects Caleb. “You’re the megaphone to the next voices of a generation.”
Derek looks flabbergasted.
“We’re the next voices,” Ben says, pointing to himself and Caleb. “I feel like he’s still not getting it.”
“Derek, we admit that we’re using you to launch our careers, but that doesn’t mean it has to ruin the friendship that we firmly established earlier tonight.”
Ben moves to give Derek some knucks, “Bros?” Ben once again remembers that Derek’s hands are tied to the chair so he lightly taps Derek’s immobile right fist.
“All we need is one episode. Then we can go back to purely being best friends. We don’t have to discuss the intersection of AI and Ketamine among Silly Valley entrepreneurs. We can just go with the flow of the conversation,” says Caleb.
“Right. David, can you start recording?” says Ben as he assumes the second host chair.
“Oh yeah, sound’s speeding, boys,” says David. He’s in the corner of the room near EJ’s workbench, ready to produce the fuck out of this episode.
“There’s another one of you?!” Derek exclaims as he tries to look around the room.
“We’re live?” Caleb asks.
“Yeah, but we can cut out any dead air if you want to do a proper intro now,” clarifies David.
“Okay, perfect. In that case, welcome to the first episode of… Broastal Elites—” Caleb looks at Ben, who almost sheds a tear, while Derek shakes his head in disbelief. “I’m your host, Caleb Bissinger—”
“And I’m your bro-host, Ben Gould.”
Caleb covers his mic. “Is that a play on co-host?”
“Yeah, does it not work?”
They look to Derek for affirmation.
“No, it doesn’t work. None of this works. I don’t—Can you just fucking untie me, please?”
“I’ll just reintroduce myself,” says Ben.
“Okay, David, just cut that in post, yeah?” says Caleb.
“Already made a note,” says David.
“And I’m your co-host, Ben Gould.”
“Today we have a very special—”
“Wait, should you also introduce yourself as co-host?” Ben asks Caleb.
“I mean, I can. Is it confusing if I say I’m the host and he says he’s the co-host?” Caleb once again turns to Derek for confirmation.
Derek stares ahead.
“We’ll just fix it in post,” continues Caleb.
“Fixing it in post!” agrees Ben.
“Consider it fixed in post,” confirms David.
Caleb proceeds with the intro. “Today, we have a very special guest joining us in Basement Studios—”
Then Ben picks it up. “He’s a writer for The Atlantic, a podcaster for The Ringer, an author of books we’ve definitely read—”
“I’ve read them,” Caleb says to Derek with a loving smile.
“He has one of the biggest brains in the world, and also our very best friend in the world… Derek motherfucking Thompson. How you doing today, sir?”
Derek pauses for a second. “I’m not speaking until you untie me.”
“Dave, can you pause the recording for a second?” asks a frustrated Caleb. Dave pauses it. “Look, Derek, it’s not like we kidnapped you. We’re just recording a 2-3 hour podcast as friends. What is the hold up?”
Derek stays silent.
Ben whispers to Caleb, “What if we untied just his arms?”
Caleb turns to Derek, “Okay, Derek. Will you proceed with the recording if we untie your arms?”
“I will do your episode if you completely untie me.”
Caleb and Ben look at each other and shrug.
“And agree to limit the recording to 45 minutes and let me go once we’re done.”
“45?! What if we need to cut…” Caleb massages his temples. “Fine, but you have to promise not to just run out of here.”
“I will not make a run for it,” says Derek.
“You’re also free to stay after for a beer, I think my stepdad replenished the ol’ Harpoon IPA fridge,” adds a delusional Ben.
“Deal,” agrees Derek.
Ben starts to untie Derek and Caleb pulls something out of his backpack and places it on the table. It’s an old-school-looking revolver.
“What the fuck is that?” asks Ben.
“It’s from Bup-Bup’s Korean War chest.”
“Does it even work?”
“What the fuck is a Bup-Bup?” asks David.
“It’s what we called our grandfather. It’s like one of those family things—” clarifies Ben.
“Oh, that’s cute. We called my grandfather Boobie,” says David.
“I love how grandfathers just go by Steve or John for 60 years then the last 20 are some gibberish the oldest cousin made up,” jokes Ben. “What’d you call your grandfather, Derek?”
Derek is a little petrified by the gun, but manages to answer, “Grandpa.”
Ben’s disappointed. “Huh. Kinda disappointing… anyway Caleb, is the gun really necessary?” Ben finished untying Derek and leans for another audible whisper to Caleb. “I mean, how is Derek gonna want to be our friend after this if we’re threatening him with a gun?”
“Do you want to be a podcaster or not?”
“I didn’t think being a podcaster meant threatening people with guns!”
“That’s exactly what it means.” They seemingly both look to Derek for confirmation.
“You guys are fucking batshit insane,” Derek answers their questioning gaze.
“Alright, Derek, no running because Caleb has a gun,” Ben sits back down in his co-host chair. “David?”
“Sound’s speeding,” David says with a thumbs up.
Caleb begins again, “So Derek-”
We hear the basement door creak open and Amy starts coming down the stairs. Caleb, Ben and David look frustrated, but Derek’s eyes are filled with hope that he might survive this night after all. “Hello podcaster boys! I thought you might like some snacks.”
“Mom! We’re in the middle of recording!” Says Ben.
“Ohp! Sorry!” She says as she places the tray of snacks on a nearby table. Caleb takes the revolver and holds it under the table so she can’t see.
“Are there Kit Kats?” Ben can’t help himself.
“Yes I have Kit Kats and string cheese for David,” Amy tosses David a string cheese.
“Thanks Amy, you’re the best.”
“You’re welcome David. And who do we have - oh my god, Derek Thompson! Two podcast tapings in one night?”
Derek looks at Caleb who taps the bottom of the table with the gun. He doesn’t know what to say.
“Oh Derek it looks like you cut yourself or something on your forehead do you want me to get a bandaid for you?”
“Yes please I -” Caleb taps the table again and Derek changes his tune. “I mean, no it’s just nothing. It’s nothing. I bumped my head when Ben and Caleb–”
Caleb cuts off Derek with a cough, but then we hear the basement door creak again and now EJ saunters down the stairs. “You guys better not have drank all of my IPAs!”
Ben and Caleb are growing increasingly frustrated despite the delicious and familiar taste of the Kit Kats. EJ gets down to the basement and starts adjusting the lighting because he’s an architect and is obsessed with room aesthetics.
“You know you guys don’t need this harsh light in here,” EJ turns his attention from the lights to the floor and notices Derek’s shoes are still on. “Darren, would you mind taking your shoes off? Sorry I know it’s annoying but people spit and dogs shit on the streets and stuff so you know.”
“No problem,” says Derek as he stands up to take his shoes off by the door. Ben, Caleb, and David exchange nervous glances as Amy and EJ continue talking about whatever the fuck comes to their minds. Derek leans down by the door to untie his shoe and looks back at Ben and Caleb. They look back at Derek. Derek looks at David who’s sitting behind his makeshift producer setup. David looks back at Derek. The tension builds and then, BOOM!
Everyone screams as the gun goes off. Dust falls from the ceiling and onto Caleb’s head as he holds his gun in the air.
“Caleb! What the hell was that?” Asks Amy.
“Is that a WWI antique?” Asks EJ.
“Korean War actually. It’s their Bup-Bup’s.” Clarifies David.
“Well what the fuck are you doing with it?”
“We’re making a podcast!” Yells Caleb authoritatively as more ceiling debris comes down onto his head.
Derek looks at everyone with his hand on the doorknob. They look back at him. Then at the gun. Then back to Derek.
Then we hear a dinging noise from upstairs.
“Did you leave the fridge open?!” Asks EJ.
“Excuse me, you were up there last Mr. Tyrant.”
Derek uses this moment of distraction to open the door and bolt out of the basement. Caleb tries to fire the gun, but luckily it just clicks and stops working. The boys run out of the house after Derek. “DEREK WAIT!” Their one hope for podcasting stardom slipping through their fingers and down the driveway.
Fortunately for the boys, Derek is standing at the end of the driveway. He holds his hands in the air and closes his eyes. “Please don’t shoot.”
The boys catch up. Somehow panting and bent over on their knees even though the driveway is only about 20 feet long.
“Derek what the hell man?” Asks Ben.
Derek realizes they don’t have a gun on him anymore. “What the hell me?! WHAT THE HELL YOU?!”
“Derek, we’re sorry,” admits Caleb. “We just look up to you so much. We want to be you, man.”
“Well kidnapping me is not the way to do it.”
“I know, it was a stupid plan. I don’t know what came over me. Once we left the green room, I just saw listens and downloads and write-ups in Vulture and… I guess we thought that if you just gave us a chance, that you’d give us our chance.”
All three take a deep breath. A slow-motion montage of Ben and Caleb laughing maniacally in the green room while Derek looks uncomfortable between them, Ben and Caleb jumping up and down in each other’s arms outside of the NPR station, Ben bringing Caleb a water and bumping fists in his chair, play in their heads.
“So,” says Ben. “What do you say we finish that episode?”
“Absolutely not, what the fuck-”
“Yeah Ben I think it’s done. We’re done.”
“Oh, oh my bad I misread the moment there.”
Derek looks down at his phone and sees his Uber is still 3 minutes away. “Fucking goddamnit.”
“Sorry for hitting you in the head with a pan,” says Ben.
“Apology not accepted,” answers Derek.
“Fair. That’s fair.”
The boys don’t know what else to say so they just wait with Derek until the Uber shows up. Finally, Derek opens the door to the backseat and is about to get in, but he turns back to them instead. “If I ever see either one of you again… it’s on fucking sight.”
Derek shuts the door and drives off. Caleb turns to Ben, “What’s ‘on sight?’”
“It means he’s gonna kill us if he sees us. It’s common gang lexicon.” The boys start walking back down the driveway towards the basement door. It’s actually a beautiful night out. One of those rare nights when the city lights don’t drown out all of the stars above.
“By the way, you know what your mom told me this afternoon?” Asks Caleb.
“What?”
“Simon Rich is coming to NPR City Space in July.”
“No he’s not. Are you fucking kidding me?! That’s my favorite fucking author, we have to meet him!”
“No, we have to get him on the pod.”
“Broastal Elites baby.”
The cousins do the Viking handshake then walk into the basement where EJ is yelling at them about the gunshot in the ceiling and Amy is yelling at EJ about yelling at her for leaving the fridge door open when it was actually his fault.
“Should I stop recording?” asks David.