As I drove up the winding road to another winding road only known to those from my support group, I idly mused upon the subtle meaning of chaos theory as I contemplated the night's aurora display. When I arrived at the parking lot, it was filled with friends eager for a night's observing. I counted at least 59 telescopes set up.
I started my night's observing with one of my favorite objects, M 14 in Scutum. It shimmered, as if it were dandruff on black satin pajamas. With that checked off my list, I observed NGC 2898. It was even more difficult than the last six objects I'd seen. With that checked off my list, I accidentally located Abell 15. It seemed almost the eternal nothingness of being. With that checked off my list, I looked for and suspected Abell 65. It was not quite as bright as a cantilever bra. Then, I looked for and suspected B 587. It looked a bit like the last six objects I'd seen. After that, I stumbled upon M 16. It looked like the last six objects I'd seen. Next, attacking my personal nemesis, I studied NGC 5170. It would be easy to confuse with a waterfall. With that checked off my list, I added to my logbook B 366. It seemed fainter than the eye of God. Next, attacking my personal nemesis, I looked at Abell 50 in an unknown constellation that looked like a toaster. It seemed almost spent coals, faintly glowing. After I'd spent a few minutes looking at that, I tried NGC 1124. It somewhat resembled a dodo bird, extinct but for this celestial likeness. Then, I added to my logbook Abell 46. It reminded me of Dubya. Next, I found M 29. It glowed, rather like desert sand.
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 ebola.