One Week Later...
“And that's how it happened,” Swara said with a light huff as she lowered herself back to the floor and raised back up into the leaning rest position. “You picked me up, the police said I was crazy, and two of the detectives gave me their number so we could go out sometime... one was married. Woo hoo New York police work,” she raised her hand and twirled her finger in a few circles, while lowering herself again and raising back up into the leaning rest position... one handed.
Didi took another drag from her cigarillo, and shook her head in disbelief. She'd already smoked three since the story started and was on her forth beer of the six-pack she'd brought by to her bestie's apartment. She just watched with wide eye's belief, smoking and drinking to cope with the weirdness. “And all this started after the Muppets tried to kill you.”
“Yep,” the blond replied, doing a few more push-ups. “What is that now? I lost count...”
“Seven hundred.” Didi said, chugging her beer. “Baby Girl... people don't do seven hundred push-ups...”
“Sure they do.” She said with a smile. Military guys are always doing them, they must do like a thousand or something.”
“Not without being tired! Not in a row, for an hour, while telling a story!” Didi stood up and walked around Swara's place, pacing between her table loaded with bills and her kitchen. “Swara, honey, this isn't right. There's something wrong with you, we need to get you to a hospital, or something. Let them to tests.”
“I thought of that,” Swara did several more, lifted one leg, then the other, then one arm, then the other... each time, no matter what, she could lift herself easily, and effortlessly. “I thought maybe I'd get my blood tested for... I dunno, blood stuff.”
“And?” A plume of smoke blew nervously past her lips as she paced.
Swara nodded to the counter top, next to the fridge. Diedre went to look and there was a syringe laid out on a white cloth, the type they used for collecting blood. “Girl, I'm not even gonna ask where you got this...”
“Girl! I said I wasn't gonna ask.” She looked closer and saw that all the needles were broken. This slivers of metal were snapped at various lengths and set upon the cloth. “The hell's all this?”
“They all broke,” Swara finally stood up from her push ups. “Seven seventy-five, by the way. And. Not. Even. Tired. Heh.” She bumped booties with her bestie as she past her and went for the kitchen drawer. She pulled steak knife out. “Check this out.” She prepped to rake the blade across her wrist.
“SWARA!” Didi moved with purpose but arrived too late to stop her. Gripping her wrist she frantically prepared to stymie the blood that was... not flowing. There was no blood. There wasn't even a wound. Just a simple red mark on her skin where the blade drug across which faded with all alacrity. “Jeasus god... what the fuck did the Muppets do to you?”
“I don't know,” she said calmly. Didi just kept turning her wrist over and about to see where any blemish or mark may be. “But when I find them, I'm gonna cock punch them both. Not because they burned me alive, that I've obviously gotten over. But because the dumped me in Brooklyn in nothing but a bikini. Do you have any idea how cold I was waiting for the police? Oh my god... you don't even know.”
Satisfied with her observation, Didi looked up at her best, dim witted, friend and smiled wide as tears rolled down her cheeks. Despite it all she was more angry about being cold than being burned alive. Like she said, she'd gotten over the dead part and her no-harm, no-foul outlook on life was so naive in the streets of New York that it was almost adorable. "Baby Girl, please don't ever change..." Swara held her only friend and smiled too. "...or answer any ads in the paper ever again. I swear to god I will fucking kill you."
"Promise." Said Swara, as casually as she had the night the entire mess started.