New Yorker Caption Contest #695
McLoud, I’m sorry, sir. This is the Toast Masters Club. The Bread Buddies meeting is across the street.
EfreetSK, 
I don’t get it :(
Window_Error_Noises, 
“I’m sorry, Monsieur Toast, the job posting was for an experienced host.”
TheGiantKorean, 
Makin his wife challah in bed
trumpetmouth, going for a roll in the hay
Touching_Grass, Name on the reservation?
username_unavailable, If this was the winner, can you imagine how bad the others were?
Dasnap, 
Nah mate nothing can compete with this.
sentient_loom, 
This is my favorite thing of today.
Namstel, Ah yes, your table is bready for you, sir.
Marduk73, 
that explains the yeast infection
blackbrook, And, worse, the crumbs in the bed.
Diabolo96, (edited ) I regret to inform you, sir, that the wedding is off. On her way to the wedding, your bride fell victim to a murder. A murder of crows, to be precise.
pastaPersona, Who’s bready for a divorce?
“Uh oh, now my family is toast!”
SpaceNoodle, Christ, what an asshole.
SnotFlickerman, 
Woke up this morning and it seemed to me,
That every night turns out to be
A little more like Bukowski.
And yeah, I know he’s a pretty good read.
But God who’d want to be?
God who’d want to be such an asshole?
God who’d want to be?
God who’d want to be such an asshole?
zaph, I think I fucked up the last line
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