"A promotional campaign for the third Twilight movie at Burger King takes advantage of the rivalry between Twilight fans enamored of the two main male characters. The campaign, scheduled to get under way on Monday, supports a game that Burger King customers can play [...] The game has two panels, one labeled "Team Edward," after the vampire heartthrob, and the other labeled "Team Jacob," after the hottie werewolf. In the campaign, dueling devotees of the two characters are seen marching into a Burger King restaurant, urging customers to play the game by scratching off the panel with their favorite character." -- NY Times, June 18
INT. STERLING COOPER DRAPER PRYCE -- DAY
It's a languid summer Friday upstairs at the Pierre, quiet but for the clacking of JOAN HOLLOWAY's IBM Selectric typewriter. ROGER STERLING lazes on a sofa in the main living area of the agency's hotel suite, nursing a Scotch and reading the afternoon's Journal American.
DON DRAPER enters from his work station in the bedroom, sleeves rolled up, lit cigarette tumbling from his lips. He checks his watch.
DON: Joan, have you heard from Harry Crane?
JOAN: Nothing yet, Mr. Draper.
DON: Has anyone heard from anyone? It's spooky.
ROGER: Summer Friday. Here... (He noisily turns a page of his newspaper.) Is that better?
Don scowls through an exhaled tobacco plume. He checks his watch again. As Joan pulls a completed letter from the typewriter, the suite door opens. HARRY CRANE enters with PEGGY OLSON. He winds and tilts with a stout cardboard box in his arms, crossing to a desk drenched in light from the amber afternoon. Peggy closes the door behind them.
HARRY: I'm sorry I'm late, it's just--
DON: You should have called.
HARRY: I know. We got hung up.
DON: What is that?
Harry plants the box on the desk. He leans back, stretching, as Peggy approaches Don. A BEAT elapses.
PEGGY: It's the future.
Don looks to Harry. Joan and Roger follow. Harry nods, and all their eyes peer down to the box.
ROGER: Well, at least it's portable.
DON: (to Harry) Would you care to explain?
HARRY: It's the Burger King account. They've gone all-out.
DON: How?
PEGGY: You've heard of Twilight, right?
DON: Who hasn't? Sally won't shut up about it.
PEGGY: There's a vampire and there's a werewolf. Edward and Jacob. And they vie for the affection of a human girl named Bella.
DON: Right. So what's in the box?
Harry pulls back the cardboard flaps and reaches into the box, withdrawing a stack of hardcover books and a thick binder. Its cover blares in heavy black letters: "THE TWILIGHT SAGA: ECLIPSE / IN-STORE / TEAM EDWARD / TEAM JACOB."
PEGGY: And the fans of the series vie among themselves for the superiority of one or the other in the Twilight subculture.
Don crosses to the desk and switches on its lamp. The tower of books gleams, still and heavy, monolithic against the files and sketches strewn around it. He lifts the topmost tome -- Breaking Dawn -- then sets it down to pick up the one beneath it: Eclipse.
DON: Don't tell me I'm going to have homework this weekend.
PEGGY: I've already read them.
HARRY: That's why we were late.
PEGGY: All you need to know is that the side favoring Edward -- the vampire -- is Team Edward, and the side favoring Jacob -- the werewolf -- is Team Jacob.
DON: Which are you?
PEGGY: (Hesitating) It's not important.
Harry mouths to Don behind Peggy's back: "Team Jacob."
DON: But what happened to the king we made for them? The guy in the mask? Those spots killed.
HARRY: They like the king, but they say he doesn't reach girls. And they need to reach girls.
PEGGY: Not just girls, but women.
HARRY: (Lifting binder) It's all in here.
DON: In a month? They didn't know they'd need to reach girls--
PEGGY: Women.
DON: Women... before today?
PEGGY: It's OK. I've solved it.
DON: Have you? Maybe our TV man should do our TV solving. What happened to Playtex? It's due yesterday, Peggy.
Peggy reaches into the box and pulls out a wide black sketchbook.
PEGGY: Just tell me what you think.
She crosses to the center of the suite, opening the sketchbook. Roger drops his newspaper as Peggy embarks on her presentation for the quartet of onlookers. Don glances at Harry, who shrugs through continued stretches.
The first sketch depicts the sunny exterior of a Burger King, into which a line of adolescent girls file furiously.
PEGGY: Open on a Burger King. A suburban location, maybe in Connecticut.
HARRY: (To Don) Tax breaks.
PEGGY: A group of young women enter in a rush. Their loyalties are split half and half between Team Edward and Team Jacob.
PEGGY: Maybe they have T-shirts. Or maybe their leaders do.
DON: Girls. In T-shirts.
PEGGY: It's the style, Don.
DON: It'll turn parents off. And it's their money.
PEGGY: The parents are buying them the shirts. But... (Turns page) The girls break into their teams, and they go table-to-table, where... (Turns page) Diners sit with a scratch-off card--
ROGER: Scratch-off card?
PEGGY: It's a... They have a scratch-off coating concealing several options. And one or several of them wins a prize if you choose correctly.
Everyone stares at Peggy. She's lost them.
PEGGY: Well. Use your imagination. Diners sit with scratch-off cards with two choices: Team Edward or Team Jacob. (Turns page) And the squads of girls approach them to lobby for their respective sides.
DON: And say what?
PEGGY: Well... (Looks at illustration, improvises) Maybe... "Jacob's abs are so hard you can scratch that game piece with them."
Joan giggles. Don blows a column of smoke.
PEGGY: And Team Edward says...
Another BEAT ensues as Peggy thinks. Roger crosses his legs, gazing at the storyboard.
HARRY: "Edward is to die for."
DON: Too dark. They're already chewing on a dead animal. More affirming, uplifting.
ROGER: "Edward won't leave paw prints in your bed."
JOAN: "Edward isn't dead, just..."
All eyes turn to Joan.
DON: "... Alive forever."
Now they all exchange looks, as if to mutually confirm the wave of momentum surging through the room.
DON: That's good. Who are the customers?
PEGGY: Women. Mothers, daughters, sisters, aunts, wives--
DON: It's not cosmic enough. More inclusive. If everyone can play, then we should see everyone playing. I want to see Roger with a card in his hand, making a decision. Burger King: Have it your way, emphasis on the "your."
PEGGY: Of course.
ROGER: You wouldn't catch me dead at a Burger King.
DON: OK, so Bert. Harry. Me. Whoever.
PEGGY: Bobby.
DON: Bobby. And mothers, daughters, sisters, aunts and wives -- as many as they'll pay for. (Pauses) Who'll direct?
HARRY: I will.
DON: It needs to be funny. Light. You're neither.
HARRY: I'm not funny?
DON: I'm sorry, Harry.
PEGGY: I can do it.
DON: No.
PEGGY: It's my idea. Why shouldn't I direct?
DON: It's out of the question.
HARRY: We could call Sal Romano.
ROGER: Not a chance.
DON: Sal would be good. Fast, proven. Right frame of mind, so to speak.
ROGER: A proven liability.
DON: We should talk it over. Joan, do you still have Sal's number?
JOAN: (Thumbing through Rolodex) I do, indeed.
DON: See if he'll meet me after work. Six. Downstairs bar. Tell him it's urgent.
JOAN: Yes, Mr. Draper.
DON: Harry, you come too.
PEGGY: What about me?
Don crosses toward the bedroom. Peggy stands with her sketchbook, glowering and forsaken. Don stops and leans over her.
DON: Playtex. Yesterday.
He exits.