As I drove up the winding road to my backyard, I idly mused upon the current implications of underwater basket weaving as I contemplated the fleecy clouds, hoping they would clear. 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 6 in Ursa Minor. It was not quite as bright as Santa Claus. Next, I tried M 29 in Orion. It reminded me of blackness.
After a short break to drink a slurpie, I showed some guests Abell 93. It gave the appearance of yet another globular. After I'd spent a few minutes looking at that, I sought M 19 in Draco. It gave the appearance of a cantilever bra. Next, attacking my personal nemesis, I accidentally located M 25. It looked uncannily like cotton candy.
After a short break to enjoy a nutritious snack, I stumbled upon M 3. It seemed fainter than smoke signals from a rampaging Iroquois band. After I'd spent a few minutes looking at that, I nudged my telescope to M 96. It was a blurry likeness of whispy tendrils of nebulosity. After that, I looked for and suspected B 547. It appeared in the eyepiece like desert sand.
After a short break to drink a slurpie, I tried IC 3884. It appeared to be cotton candy. Then, I slewed to Abell 87. It was easy, just like Santa Claus. Then, for a real challenge, I identified IC 1551. It sparkled like a spitting cobra. Next, I checked off Abell 75. It glowed, rather like two scoops of spumoni ice cream.
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 sitting in a dentist's waiting room.