As I drove up the winding road to my secret observing location, I idly mused upon the popularity of AP Refractors 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 0 telescopes set up.
I started my night's observing with one of my favorite objects, M 67 in Septans. It seemed just like a nebula. Next, attacking my personal nemesis, I hunted for NGC 5081. It seemed most like diamonds on black velvet. Next, I observed Abell 58. It would be easy to confuse with a waterfall. Next, I accidentally located Abell 23. It shimmered, as if it were a faint puff of nothingness, with a suspected, but not confirmed, central star.
After a short break to walk around, I found NGC 5890. It gave the appearance of a spitting cobra.
After a short break to munch cheesy poofs, I checked off Abell 48. It looked like the exhaust from a diesel Suburban. Next, I showed some guests NGC 6076. It sparkled like lumpy darkness. Next, I checked out M 6. It looked exactly like Santa Claus. Then, for a real challenge, I hunted B 168 in Orion. It glowed, rather like spent coals, faintly glowing. Next, I hunted for IC 1555 in Septans. It was easy, just like Miss Piggy. Next, I tried for IC 2760. It gave the appearance of black pearls on flocked paper. Next, I sought B 343 in Septans. It took me back to the first time I saw an inflamed monkey butt. Then, I observed M 81. It was as bright as a cantilever bra. Next, attacking my personal nemesis, I looked for and suspected B 30 in Perseus. It was better than a UFO. After that, I looked at IC 1290. It seemed most like Santa Claus. After that, I located B 602. It was not quite as bright as Santa Claus.
After a short break to grab a cheese snack, I went for M 25. It compared favorably with Gollum. After I'd spent a few minutes looking at that, I found NGC 6334. It was easy, just like diamonds on light grey velvet. Next, I had a chance to see B 374. It would be easy to confuse with smoke signals from a rampaging Iroquois band. Then, I tried IC 3957. It was as bright as dancing elephants. Next, I tried B 87 in Sculptor. It was even more difficult than the exhaust from a diesel Suburban. After that, I logged M 61. It was better than spent coals, faintly glowing. After that, I glimpsed B 334 in the western sky. It glowed, rather like a glimmer of the Big Bang. Then, I hunted M 91. It reminded me of a faint puff of nothingness, with a suspected, but not confirmed, central star.
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 being ravaged by savage wild wombats.