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RIP, Don and Darren


PASabreFan

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Don Knotts, thinking God might be a big fan, arrives at the Pearly Gates in character and in uniform, his voice cracking and his hands shaking, his upper lip sweating and his nose twitching. A laughing St. Peter tells Knotts he doesn't have to try so hard and reaches into Knott's shirt pocket. "And you won't be needing that here." The gates swing wide open, the smell of a freshly baked blueberry pie filling the air. Knotts enters, those saucer eyes as wide as can be, his place immediately taken by Darren McGavin, who has emerged from the mist wearing a weak smile and holding a gift for God. "I'll take that," says a smiling St. Peter, who hits the switch again. McGavin enters, looking cautiously for the Bumpus dogs, the smell of a very recently roasted turkey hanging heavy. St. Peters hits the intercom button. "God, any word on Charles Bronson? Cuz if that crazy #%^$#!er comes packing heat, all I have is a bullet and an Official Red Ryder Carbine-Action Two-Hundred-Shot Range Model Air Rifle."

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Don Knotts, thinking God might be a big fan, arrives at the Pearly Gates in character and in uniform, his voice cracking and his hands shaking, his upper lip sweating and his nose twitching. A laughing St. Peter tells Knotts he doesn't have to try so hard and reaches into Knott's shirt pocket. "And you won't be needing that here." The gates swing wide open, the smell of a freshly baked blueberry pie filling the air. Knotts enters, those saucer eyes as wide as can be, his place immediately taken by Darren McGavin, who has emerged from the mist wearing a weak smile and holding a gift for God. "I'll take that," says a smiling St. Peter, who hits the switch again. McGavin enters, looking cautiously for the Bumpus dogs, the smell of a very recently roasted turkey hanging heavy. St. Peters hits the intercom button. "God, any word on Charles Bronson? Cuz if that crazy #%^$#!er comes packing heat, all I have is a bullet and an Official Red Ryder Carbine-Action Two-Hundred-Shot Range Model Air Rifle."

Twernt Chuck. Ol' St. Pete got Chester McCloud instead. RIP gentlemen.

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