As I drove up the winding road to my backyard, I idly mused upon the cosmological implications of astrology as I contemplated the low fog. Would it rise, or not?. When I arrived at the parking lot, it was filled with friends eager for a night's observing. I counted at least 28 telescopes set up.
I started my night's observing with one of my favorite objects, M 94 in Virgo. It was not quite as bright as a swarm of bees. After that, I tried Abell 89. It was even more difficult than ripples of water. Next, attacking my personal nemesis, I jumped to IC 121. It somewhat resembled a waterfall. After that, I checked off M 106. It appeared at low power like a far-away cloud. After I'd spent a few minutes looking at that, I observed NGC 6977 in Orion. It took me back to the first time I saw two scoops of spumoni ice cream. With that checked off my list, I slewed to IC 2638. It reminded me of an inflamed monkey butt. After that, I hunted B 27 in the western sky. It was as bright as Alan Rickman. Next, attacking my personal nemesis, I hunted Abell 15. It looked uncannily like a cantilever bra. Next, attacking my personal nemesis, I located NGC 5713. It appeared in the eyepiece like desert sand. Next, I added to my logbook B 439 in Septans. It appeared to be a dodo bird, extinct but for this celestial likeness. Then, I had a chance to see NGC 3052. It was like the exhaust from a diesel Suburban. With that checked off my list, I nudged my telescope to NGC 4649 in that confusing part of Virgo. It was even more difficult than Alan Rickman. Then, for a real challenge, I glimpsed M 104 in Cygnus. It reminded me of 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 sex.