Generic Guy sighed. He was now a generic, grey soul in purgatory, but he didn't care for anything. He had hoped to have something to live for, whether it be good or bad.
But alas, he was too generic to think of something to do with his very stale life. All the generic, gray colored souls walking past him had more interesting titbits about themselves than he did. Unfortunately for Generic Man, even in the afterlife were things just bland.
Nothing remotely strange looking popped up in general. All that surrounded him was pitch black darkness, with all the grayish souls going through him as he himself was a soul, albeit a very generic, boring soul. And as he thought back to his generic life, Generic Guy had a permanent scowl on his face, realizing that nothing he did was of any interest to life, nor was it actually contributing. And there was no one, alive or dead, that ever cared for him.
Because he was that generic. And there was nothing for him to do about it, no matter how hard he tried or how much time and effort he put in, as being generic... was his DESTINY.