Jack the Giant-Killer

tell me the punch­line. ap­a­thy reeks of un­washed socks. i com­plete my day by proxy whilst my thought go was­sail­ing in­to cal­i­co dreams of hot choco­late camp­fires and blan­ket­ed read­ings of child­hood clas­sics. i wish i were Jack the Giant-Killer. Then I would have an in­vis­i­ble cloak, shoes of speed, an en­chant­ed sword and the hand of the fairest maid­en in the realm. plus i would kill gi­ants. and ogres. stuff like that. i think i’ll go to prac­tice now…