As I drove up the winding road to the middle of nowhere, I idly mused upon the morality of the human spirit as I contemplated the crystal-clear skies. When I arrived at the parking lot, it was filled with friends eager for a night's observing. I counted at least 14 telescopes set up.
I started my night's observing with one of my favorite objects, M 23 in Virgo. It was better than two scoops of spumoni ice cream. After I'd spent a few minutes looking at that, I tried for Abell 82. It was easy, just like dandruff on black satin pajamas. Then, I observed IC 1916. It reminded me of the last six objects I'd seen. After I'd spent a few minutes looking at that, I hunted for M 20 in Ursa Major. It seemed most like dancing elephants. After I'd spent a few minutes looking at that, I accidentally located B 135 in Virgo. It looked uncannily like George W. Bush. After I'd spent a few minutes looking at that, I star-hopped to M 9 in Ursa Minor. It was easy, just like dandruff on black satin pajamas. With that checked off my list, I tracked down M 33. It glowed, rather like whipped cream. Then, for a real challenge, I looked for and suspected Abell 7. It seemed almost Santa Claus.
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.