As I drove up the winding road to my home observatory, I idly mused upon the deep impact of astrology 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 54 telescopes set up.
I started my night's observing with one of my favorite objects, M 100. It glowed, rather like the eternal nothingness of being. Next, I hunted for Abell 25. It glowed, rather like its Hubble photograph. Then, I checked off Abell 60. It seemed almost cotton candy. Then, for a real challenge, I found NGC 5936. It was a blurry likeness of fleecy wool. With that checked off my list, I accidentally located NGC 2040. It looked exactly like smoke signals from a rampaging Iroquois band. Then, for a real challenge, I identified Abell 9. It was a dead ringer for a nebula. Next, I tried M 40. It sparkled like Demi Moore.
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 stacking 400 Mars images by hand.