paradisa | Article 1

[morning brings the usual ambient noise over the journal: the rustle of bedsheets, the unmistakeable groan of someone who is decidedly hung over, the slow shuffle of feet over generic New Castle Room carpet. normally, a new arrival would be freaking out a little more at this point, but this is hardly the first time Barney Stinson has woken up in a different place than he fell asleep the night before. he staggers into the bathroom and regards himself in the mirror]

Ugh. This was such a bad idea. Of all the colors. Stupid Murtaugh list. I wish I hadn't dyed my hair pink.

[there is a spectacular, shuddering yelp of surprise as, per castle mechanics, the wish is granted]

Whoa.

[he reaches up and puts both hands to his head, then checks the mirror to make sure it's not some sort of trick. okay. okay, he's found a genie somewhere. this is cool. this is awesome. but it is a theory that needs testing]

Okay, okay, wait, hang on a second, here. I wish .... for a diamond pinstriped bespoke Savile Row suit.

[POOF. One Suit Acquired. he lets out a high-pitched gasp comparable to someone who was just told they won the lottery]

Whoa. ... CRAP, I've only got one left. Uhm. Um. ... I gotta really make this count. I wiiiiiish .....? Forrrrrrr....

[there is a period of intense, life-changing concentration before a slow smirk spreads over his face and Barney nods to himself, slowly. yeah. yeeeeeah, that's it. perfect.]

All twelve models from the 1999 Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Calendar.

[expectant pause.]

OH COME ON, WHAT A GYP!