Your Lover Is Gonna Die Day!
In that hotel room, if you don't get her outta there, she's gonna die of the pills that are keeping her from running away from you.
You brought her up here to the lake to hunt for Champ, the sea beast sighted in Lake Champlain. When you planned the trip, you treated it like a lark with a little bit of "what if" thrown in. But your lover had a different idea.
"If we find this sea serpent, we'll be pretty famous right?" she asked.
You shrugged and said that you guess so.
"And we'll, like, own the thing too won't we?" she asked. "Like, if the Smithsonian or the MOMA wants to get their hands on it they'll have to pay us a shitload. We'll rent out the fucker."
You suggested that actually gaining physical ownership of the mythical sea serpent might be far more difficult a task than the two of you are prepared for.
"But a picture would be nice," you said. When she looked like she was about to leap from the bed and tear your eyelids off your face, you added that a picture would fetch quite a lot of money from various outlets.
She locked herself in the bathroom for two hours while you knocked.
"My drug addiction is expensive," she said when she finally let you in so that you could pull the hair from her face while she sat on the toilet seat lid.
"I know it is," you said.
"I need some way to come up with the money to buy my drugs without having to work," she said. "This Champ thing is my last hope."
But of course, Champ was nowhere to be found. And her pills soon ran out. You have been making treks into neighboring towns and scoring pills that at least end her pain, if they won't get her high. But she's been ingesting narcotics without any regard for what came before or what's coming next. Keep this up and she'll die within the month.
But if you stop giving her whatever drugs you can find, she'll run off back to the city. She's horrible, but you have to keep her close to you. She may not be what you used to dream of, but you know your heart. She's the one.
Happy Your Lover Is Gonna Die Day!