Attention Deficit Theatre: "Mad Men," Season One, Episode 13

 

And now, the Attention Deficit Theatre players take the stage for the season finale, “The Wheel.” While the play might only feel like it’s five minutes long, there’s a magic time machine involved and it’s really a nine month production. And you might need to sit on an inflatable donut for a few days afterward. Bonus.

 

(curtain up)

Scene: The Campbell residence

Pete’s father-in-law: So I hear you were up for a promotion and didn’t get it.

Pete’s ego: Deflate.

Pete’s father-in-law: You work too much.

Pete: Hey, how’s that Clearasil company you just bought? Wow, I’d be such a star at work if you’d give us that account.

Pete’s father-in-law: The only family and business you should be mixing is the production of a child.

Pete: I will remind you that I haven’t seen or heard from my balls since Episode Three. Reproduction will be a challenge, old man.

Scene: The Draper residence. Don and Betty are in bed reading and talking.

Betty: I wish you were coming to my family’s Thanksgiving hootenanny.

Don: Nah. I’m too busy working. And screwing around with various brunettes in the city.

Betty: What about Sally and Bobby’s childhood memories?

Don: Who?

Betty: Your kids. Sally. The one who doesn’t know how to spell “playhouse” or identify numbers on the screen during election results. And Bobby. Well, hell, I don’t know who he is, either. He’s never on the show.

Don: Right.

Betty: I don’t understand why you can’t make my family your family.

Don: I could dress you up like my sweaty brother Adam, but the little red wig wouldn’t do a thing for your complexion. Besides, the last thing I need is another family of hobo magnets.

Scene: The Sterling Cooper offices late at night. Harry’s on the phone to his wife.

Harry: I can’t believe I told you about my drunken fling with Hildy. How stoopid am I? Yeah, I’m so totally staying at Kenny’s apartment. What? You say you can hear my tacky office lamp in the background? Damn. I have no pride. Can I come home now?

Scene: The next day at the Draper house. Betty’s hauling around acorn squash for some reason and Francine comes over.

Betty: Ewww. You look like hell. What gives?

Francine: I’ve been waiting outside for you. I’m so stupid.

Betty: For what? Smoking and drinking nonstop before and after your baby’s birth?

Francine: Please. Like there’s anything wrong with that. Carlton’s cheating on me. I looked at the phone bill and called a number and a woman answered.

Betty: Maybe it’s a caterer and he’s planning a surprise party.

Francine: God, you’re dumb. Is that headband cutting off circulation to your head?

Betty: Probably.

Francine: He spends two nights a week at the Waldorf. He comes home smelling like perfume. I think I’ll poison him and the whole family at Thanksgiving.

Betty: That sounds like fun.

Francine: What do I do? I thought you’d know.

Betty: Why would you ask me? Really, our lives could be any more different. See, while Carlton is skanking around Manhattan at night, my loyal husband is, um, spending a lot of nights in the city while I service myself on the Kenmore during the spin cycle, now that I think about it. Oh God.

Francine: Duh.

Scene: The Sterling Cooper conference room. Duck Phillips has called his first official meeting with the group.

Duck: I’m offering $100 to the first guy who gets us a meeting with a bigwig at a major company.

Don: Rock on.

Duck: I spent an hour and a half today at the athletic club steam room and found out that Kodak isn’t happy with the campaign for its new slide projector with the wheel thingie.

Salvatore: What? There’s new business to be found at the nearest Turkish bath? See ya!

Scene: That night at the Campbell residence. Pete and Trudy are going at it.

Trudy: I’ll be right back.

Pete: Do you have to?

Trudy: That’s risky business.

Pete: Pardon me while I don Ray-Bans and shimmy around in my undies. Can I pretend you’re a hot hooker?

Trudy: Um, sure.

Pete: We can’t afford to have a kid.

Trudy: Don’t worry about that.

Pete: OK, stay here.

Trudy: Huh? I’m lost. Wasn’t I getting up a few minutes ago to don a diaphragm or something? I’m pretty sure I was. Then you made me come back and then were all “we can’t afford a kid” and now you want me to stay here?

Pete: I know. This scene is so poorly written and confusing. I have no idea what I’m saying. Why isn’t the director telling us to cut so we can re-shoot it with the right dialogue?

Trudy: No clue. OK, let’s just have sex.

Pete: Whee!

Scene: The next day in a recording studio. Kenny and Peggy are listening while a woman records a radio spot for the newly renamed Relaxiciser.

Kenny: You totally picked the wrong woman for this. Dowdy Rita had a much better voice.

Peggy: Shut it. Annie and her hot cinnamon bun looking hairdo are just what we need. OK, Annie. Say your lines.

Annie: Blah blah blah.

Peggy: You don’t sound confident enough.

Annie: Ok. BLAH blah BLAH.

Peggy: Still awful.

Kenny: It’s too bad your voice is so annoying, Peggy.

Annie: My throat is itchy. Can I have some pineapple juice?

Peggy: No. You’ll have water and you’ll like it.

Annie: Hag.

Peggy: This isn’t working out. You’re fired. Wow, I’m edgy and hormonal today. I can’t imagine why. Doodly doo.

Scene: Later in Don’s office. He’s ferreting through the pictures in the box Adam sent and calls the Brighton Hotel.

Hotel Desk Guy: Hello?

Don: Hidey. I’m trying to find Adam Whitman.

Hotel Desk Guy: Um. I hate to be the one to tell you this, but he hung himself.

Don: Sweet mother of God. What are you saying? This is horrible.

Hotel Desk Guy: I know. I'm sorry.

Don: I mean, don’t you know the correct word is “hanged?”

Hotel Desk Guy: Leave me alone. Oh, the dead guy left a bunch of money to the building. The city took it.

Don: Great. Now I’ll just sit here with my head in my hands all dramatic for a while. Wow. I really loaded up the Bryll Cream today. The camera man can see his reflection in my hair.

Scene: Later in Don’s office. He wakes up and receives the visual treat of Harry prancing through the office in his undershirt and tighty whiteys, hair all disheveled.

Don: Hey, come in here. What is the benefit of that slide projector thingie over there?

Harry: Machinery is fun. I used to stalk girls by taking pictures of them. I also have a hand fetish. I’m obsessed with cave paintings. The little handprints are like someone reaching through the stone saying…

Don: Hey, Guy in the Future, might my prehistoric self recommend boxers over briefs?

Harry: Not that I recall.

Don: Hey, Guy in the Future, can you at least cross your legs when sitting across from your boss in your skivvies?

Harry: Well, um.

Don: Hey, Guy in the Future, don’t cheat on your wife and stupidly tell her?

Harry: I’m going back to my office to wish I was dead now.

Don: Toodles.

Scene: The parking lot of a bank. Betty sees Glenn sitting in his car and knocks on the window.

Glenn: I’m not supposed to talk to you.

Betty: I don’t care. How’s my disembodied lock of hair doing?

Glenn: My mom’s going to freak out if she sees you.

Betty: I don’t care. I can’t talk to anyone. I’m so sad.

Glenn: You think you’re sad? Look at how stupid I look with his Elmer Fudd hat strapped to my toothless head.

Betty: Please tell me I’ll be ok. Sob sob.

Glenn: Here, hold my hand. I wish I was older.

Betty: You can call me Mrs. Letourneau if you want.

Glenn: Yay!

Scene: Later at Dr. Wayne’s office. Betty’s on the couch.

Betty: I totally got all liberated and looked at the forbidden phone bill and know that Don’s calling you at night. But I won’t tell you that. Instead, I’ll try to bait you.

Dr. Wayne: Tell me more about that.

Betty: My husband isn’t faithful to me. The way he makes love, sometimes it’s what I want. But sometimes it’s obviously what someone else wants. Sometimes he calls me Rachel and makes me put on fake sideburns. Should I worry?

Scene: The Sterling Cooper conference room. The team is presenting to the Kodak guys.

Client: OK then. So how do you make the wheel seem like new technology?

Don: Screw your new technology. It’s about nostalgia. Now I’ll show slides of my own family bonding moments. Wow. I guess I really do have a son. Anyhoo, this isn’t a spaceship. It’s a time machine. It takes us to a place where we ache to go again. Got your hankeys ready?

Client: Bring it.

Don: It’s not called the wheel. It’s called the Carousel. It lets us travel the way a child travels…around and around to a place where we know we are loved.

Harry: Damn you. I’m running out in tears.

Don: Thank you for wearing pants.

Scene: Shortly thereafter in Don’s office.

Duck: Woo-hoo! Kodak loves us. We got the account. Oh, and way to go on bringing in the Clearasil work, Pete.

Don: I’m feeling sassy now. Hey, Pete, watch me emasculate you even further.

Pete: Christ. Now what?

Don: Hey, Peggy. Get in here.

Peggy: Waddle waddle. Yes?

Don: You’re now a junior copywriter for Clearasil.

Peggy: Is this really happening?

Don: Yep.

Peggy: Golly. I can’t imagine anything more unexpected that could possibly happen today.

Pete: I’m going to my office to get my gun. Stomp stomp.

Scene: Later at a hospital. Peggy’s not feeling well.

Doctor: So what’s the problem, other than the nauseating display of tweed you’re sporting?

Peggy: My stomach hurts really bad. I think I had a bad sammich. OOOOH!

Doctor: Duh. You’re pregnant.

Peggy: Huh? That’s not possible.

Doctor: Did I mention you’re having the baby in, like, five minutes?

Peggy: What? Why, I am utterly surprised by this revelation. OOOOOOW!

Shark: Jump!

Scene: Sometime later in the maternity ward. A nurse comes into Peggy’s room holding a baby.

Nurse: Don’t you want to feed him or hold him?

Baby: Hidey.

Peggy: Quiet, you. I could not be MORE caught off guard by your existence.

Baby: Huh? Um, you didn’t so much notice that the ol’ monthly bill wasn’t coming or that you became a dirigible or, I don’t know, the fact that for at least three months, I’ve been sticking my feet in your ribcage and kicking and trying to push my way out? None of that so much registered?

Peggy: Zip it. I’m ignoring you now.

Baby: Deadbeat.  I’m so totally going to tell the other babies in the nursery about what you’ve been doing with that Relaxiciser every night.

Scene: Later that evening. Don comes home.

Don: Lookee me.

Betty: What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be philandering or something?

Don: I’m the model husband. I’m going to your family’s Thanksgiving with you.

Betty: Really?

Don: You betcha. What a perfect Norman Rockwell life we have. I’m even going to kiss you now. Mwah.

Sally and Bobby: Daddy! Golly, we love you so much. You’re a perfect family man. Come here and give us a hug!

Reality: Hidey. I’m setting in now. They’re gone. You’re all alone.

Don: Crap. I’m a tool. The only thing that would make this moment worse is for some unintelligible downer song to show up over the credits.

Bob Dylan: Wah wah wah. Babe. Eee eee eee. Rooster. Neee neeee neee. Light.

Don: Great. Now I have to sit here and listen to this until next summer.

(curtain down)

Wow. Way to end the season on a total downer. So are we supposed to believe that Don’s a changed man? I’ll admit the Carousel presentation tugged at even my cold heartstrings. But really. The man goes through mistresses like Old Man Cooper goes through Ayn Rand mentions. Speaking of which, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m disappointed in Harry for telling his wife about his fling. Who’s with me there?

And now for the tweed-bedecked elephant in the room. The whole Jerry Springer-esque “I done had a baby and didn’t know I was preggers” thing with Peggy was beyond ridiculous. Yes, yes. I know there are women who claim to have had that happen. But I’m still not buying it. I know a thing or two about the experience and there’s not a person on earth who can convince me that a woman with two functioning brain cells can be oblivious to a miniature person on the verge of punching its way out of her undercarriage. No way. So what will she do now? I guess she’ll put Petey’s spawn up for adoption and will feign appendicitis or something to explain her lengthy hospital stay. And the loss of 20 pounds overnight.

And now we have to wait until next summer? Jeez. What will we do with ourselves until then? I’ve really enjoyed writing these and am grateful that they’ve found an audience of equally sarcastic fans. Thank you all, and don’t be strangers! Until then, I'll find something new to write about…any suggestions?