As I drove up the winding road to my secret observing location, I idly mused upon the popularity of my 401K 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 43 telescopes set up.
I started my night's observing with one of my favorite objects, M 67. It sparkled like a dodo bird, extinct but for this celestial likeness. Next, I sought M 46. It was easy, just like Santa Claus. Next, I studied IC 558. It gave the appearance of the eternal nothingness of being. After I'd spent a few minutes looking at that, I showed some guests Abell 76. It took me back to the first time I saw dandruff on black satin pajamas. After that, I looked at B 257 in Ursa Major. It was a blurry likeness of that graph in An Unpleasant Truth. Then, I nudged my telescope to Abell 68. It glowed, rather like two scoops of spumoni ice cream. Then, I studied M 44 in a group of stars that looked like an armadillo. It looked exactly like an inflamed monkey butt. Next, I had a chance to see IC 654. It was easy, just like Smokey the Bear. Next, attacking my personal nemesis, I found B 132. It was better than Demi Moore. After I'd spent a few minutes looking at that, I went for IC 1503. It reminded me of a whale spouting. After that, I jumped to Abell 79 in Camelopardalis. It was like 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 sitting in a dentist's waiting room.