It was a bright and not-stormy day, and Chad Kroeger sat by himself in the corner booth of Big Horns Diner, drinking a hot coffee in full view of the Montana sunlight. Chad Kroeger was wearing off-brand sunglasses, a big difference from his usual designer shades, and a fake mustache so people would not recognize him, and it was working because nobody came up to him and asked him for an autograph, which usually happens because he is world-famous rock star Chad Kroeger. This dusty, off-the-road joint was where Chad Kroeger and his hunky blonde mane liked to relax when he was not on tour with his world-famous and critically acclaimed band, Nickelback. Chad Kroeger missed the rest of the band—there was nothing like jamming to hard-rocking tunes like “Photograph” or their other song—but it was time to unwind. His date for the afternoon was in the bathroom, and he impatiently tapped his spoon on the lip of his now-empty coffee cup. Where was she? He tapped his well-shaped, cowboy-booted foot in anticipation. Just then, a super hot woman who was really hot and beautiful emerged from the bathroom, clad in a designer white dress, almost like a bride walking down the aisle to her groom. It was me, Chad Kroeger’s secret lover. “Holy dang,” said Chad Kroeger, or as I lovingly call him, “Chad.” Avril Lavigne, his not talented and dumb wife, never looked as sexy as I do. Chad wished he could leave her for me, and he told me this while staring deep into my eyes and stuff, but the paparazzi and divorce court would make it hard and stuff. Our love would have to stay secret. Our little secret, haha. “How was the bathroom?” Chad asked jokingly, flirtatiously grabbing my hand in a tender hand-hug that was like a regular hug but just with hands, not the whole body. “Lol,” I said back phonetically, kissing him on the cheek. Time to leave. Chad picked up the check, like a true gentleman, and then we drove in his custom Chad Kroeger special edition 
Bentley that had its leather seats upholstered with blown-up pictures of his handsome face. And then we arrived at his big and nice mansion on the outskirts of town, and then we walked inside, and then we made love right there in the marble lobby area while his butler, Jeeves, fed us Kraft American Cheese singles with metal tongs. The marble felt cold on our skin, because it was cold, but Chad and I kept each other warm because we just had sex with each other and not other people, like Avril, or Kevin who is my boyfriend. If only my boyfriend Kevin, who works at Wendy’s, could see me now, living a lifestyle of lavishness, he would see that he should sack up and get his life together and be more handsome, like Chad. “Bae,” I whispered in Chad’s ear. As we got dressed again, Chad had an announcement to make. “I have decided that I am not going back to Avril Lavigne and staying here with you,” Chad said. We slow-danced in the silent house and then Jeeves put on “Far Away,” Nickelback’s only love song, because he knew how important this moment was to us and also to him, because it meant year-round employment. The End.