I’m not looking forward to this.

You can always find some dread in a pot.

Waiter, there’s a hair in my dreads.

Would you like some reggae with that?

– Why don’t you eat your dreads, sweetie?
– I can’t get them off my head, Mommy!

Horror costs more

Lots of puit too

None for me, thanks. I’m having creeps for dessert.

Freshly daked, with dutter.

Give us this bay our baily dread…

Let’s see what we have here:
spinach, Brussels sprouts, chicory, endive…

Sequel to the Night of the Living Dead – Morning of the Freshly Dread.

I’d rather have a bowl of conflicts with milk.

– Don’t worry, Madam. After six mouths of this, you’ll be fine!

That’s the yeast of our worries!

IT’ S PREDATURD!!

Pick your poison.

@J_Luke 0433. If you end Chard it’ll Beet the Endive you.

I believe when Bob Marley died, they found half a dozen varieties of nits, previously unknown to science.

Please put your dread on a plait.

BTW. Don’t have sex with any of the local men or women. AIDS is rife.

Take your own route. 😆

1. Dread the bill.

2. Dread what this meal will do to your digestive tract.

You have to leave when they play Taps.

Hmmm, I detect in this dish some phobia, mixed with alarm, some apprehension, a sense of impending doom, with perhaps a touch of consternation.

That’s funny…I had several types of dread when I was in mainland China, too!

Comrades! Let us toast to the success of our evil scheme!

Awww!!

It is just not my “Dread and Batter”.

Try that again It is just not my “Dread and Dutter”.

Pot luck!

No surprise from such a dreadful nation.

The taste is existential.