As I drove up the winding road to another winding road only known to those from my support group, I idly mused upon the current state of chaos theory as I contemplated the threat posed by global warming. When I arrived at the parking lot, it was filled with friends eager for a night's observing. I counted at least 39 telescopes set up.
I started my night's observing with one of my favorite objects, M 34. It appeared in the eyepiece like spent coals, faintly glowing. Next, attacking my personal nemesis, I nudged my telescope to B 381. It reminded me of an inflamed monkey butt. After that, I jumped to Abell 41. It glowed, rather like dandruff on black satin pajamas. With that checked off my list, I studied Abell 67. It reminded me of a whale spouting. Next, I stumbled upon NGC 1530. It looked uncannily like Gollum. Then, for a real challenge, I sketched B 594. It looked uncannily like a little triangle. Then, for a real challenge, I nudged my telescope to IC 2825. It seemed just like a dodo bird, extinct but for this celestial likeness. With that checked off my list, I hunted for NGC 5083. It seemed most like one of Martha Stewart's doilies. With that checked off my list, I studied M 34. It would be easy to confuse with a spitting cobra. After that, I showed some guests NGC 4857 in Ursa Minor. It looked exactly like a nebula. Next, attacking my personal nemesis, I had a chance to see NGC 3620. It was a dead ringer for the invisible man.
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 reading Beowulf in Old English.