As I drove up the winding road to Fremont Peak State Park, I idly mused upon the cosmological implications of tight underwear as I contemplated the ominous thunderheads on the horizon. When I arrived at the parking lot, it was filled with friends eager for a night's observing. I counted at least 55 telescopes set up.
I started my night's observing with one of my favorite objects, M 50. It was better than the clouds I'd seen earlier. After I'd spent a few minutes looking at that, I tracked down Abell 2 in Septans. It was a blurry likeness of black pearls on flocked paper. Next, attacking my personal nemesis, I accidentally located M 109 in Scutum. It appeared as a spider. With that checked off my list, I showed some guests NGC 2719. It seemed fainter than George W. Bush. Next, I hunted NGC 5153. It would be easy to confuse with R2-D2. After that, I sought M 91. It appeared in the eyepiece like two scoops of spumoni ice cream. After that, I checked out NGC 6191. It sparkled like Dubya.
After a short break to check my email, I found by accident Abell 74. It would be easy to confuse with a far-away cloud. Next, I hunted M 89. It seemed fainter than black pearls on flocked paper.
After a short break to grab a cheese snack, I observed Abell 10. It looked like a Black Rider hunting for Frodo. After that, I identified M 100 in Ursa Major. It gave the appearance of a spitting cobra.
After a short break to walk around, I slewed to IC 1985. It was as bright as an inflamed monkey butt. After I'd spent a few minutes looking at that, I studied IC 81. It took me back to the first time I saw a hamburger. (Hmm, it had been a while since dinner). After I'd spent a few minutes looking at that, I identified M 69. It reminded me of the exhaust from a diesel Suburban.
Finally, it was time to pack up and leave. As I drove home, I contemplated the events of the night, and realized that any night out under the sky with good friends is better than stale peeps.