As I drove up the winding road to Devastated Area, I idly mused upon the higher implications of the energy crisis 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 7 in Cygnus. It was easy, just like whipped cream. Next, attacking my personal nemesis, I slewed to NGC 1628 in Canis Major. It glowed, rather like the clouds I'd seen earlier. After that, I slewed to B 459. It looked exactly like an inflamed monkey butt. After I'd spent a few minutes looking at that, I showed some guests Abell 66 in Perseus. It was a blurry likeness of Demi Moore. After that, I located Abell 42 in Corvus. It looked exactly like cream being swirled into hot coffee. Then, I hunted for NGC 5473. It looked uncannily like a nebula. Then, for a real challenge, I showed some guests NGC 619. It looked uncannily like a hamburger. (Hmm, it had been a while since dinner).
After a short break to listen to the coyote symphony in the distance, I looked at IC 2276. It appeared as lumpy darkness. Then, I glimpsed Abell 10. It was as bright as that graph in An Unpleasant Truth. After that, I hunted M 87. It appeared in the eyepiece like smoke signals from a rampaging Iroquois band. Then, I logged M 104 in Corvus. It took me back to the first time I saw Gollum.
After a short break to chat, I looked for and suspected Abell 52 in the western sky. It would be easy to confuse with a spitting cobra.
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 getting shot in the face by Dick Cheney.