Once upon a time, in the land of complete and utter mediocrity, there lived a man. This man, let's call him Joe (because why not?), was as ordinary as a beige wall in a waiting room. Not tall, not short, not ugly, not handsome—just... there. He was the kind of guy who would blend in with a crowd so well that even his own reflection would probably forget who he was.

Joe was an orphan, but don't expect any tear-jerking backstory here. No tragic deaths, no mysterious villains, just... he was alone. His childhood could've been summed up with: "Did you eat lunch today? Yeah? Good." There were no sweeping emotions, no dramatic moments, just the kind of bland existence that would make cardboard feel exotic.

By day, Joe worked at an office job that was so mind-numbingly boring it could actually make you forget what it felt like to be alive. He sat in a cubicle so dull, even the fluorescent lights gave up trying to shine brightly. Every morning, he'd walk in with his perfectly average coffee cup, greeting his equally average coworkers with the most half-hearted "How's it going?" as though he'd already forgotten why he even asked. His coworkers? Let's just say there was Bob, who was always talking about his fish tank (as if it were the most important thing in the universe), and Karen, who liked to send passive-aggressive emails about office snacks. But Joe? He just wanted to survive the day.

At night, Joe returned to his "charming" apartment. Now, I say charming in the most sarcastic way possible. It was a place where socks went missing like a magic trick, and pizza boxes had become permanent fixtures of the decor. His kitchen looked like a crime scene, but the crime was probably just him making a sandwich and leaving it there for weeks. No one was impressed by Joe's lack of organization, except for maybe the bacteria thriving in the refrigerator. They were having a party in there.

But here's where things took a turn for the weird. One fateful day, while Joe was walking through his kitchen—probably searching for the last slice of pizza, because that's definitely how his life worked—a moment of destiny struck

It was a banana peel.

Yes, you heard me. A single, innocent banana peel, left on the floor like it had some sort of grand purpose. And Joe? Well, Joe, being the epitome of clumsiness, stepped right on it. His foot slid. He flailed. He tried to regain balance, but it was too late. And with the grace of a sloth on roller skates, Joe fell straight to the ground, his head meeting the edge of the kitchen counter with a thud.

No dramatic gasp. No suspenseful music. Just... silence. And then, just like that, he was out cold.

But you know what? That was the most exciting thing that had happened to Joe in years.