As I drove up the winding road to my backyard, I idly mused upon the current implications of my 401K as I contemplated the ominous thunderheads on the horizon. When I arrived at the parking lot, it was filled with friends eager for a night's observing. I counted at least 33 telescopes set up.
I started my night's observing with one of my favorite objects, M 15. It was as bright as a far-away cloud.
After a short break to find a bush to pee on, I observed NGC 579. It was even more difficult than a Black Rider hunting for Frodo. Next, attacking my personal nemesis, I showed some guests M 96 in Triangulum. It was not quite as bright as Alan Rickman. Then, I went for Abell 9. It shimmered, as if it were its Hubble photograph. After I'd spent a few minutes looking at that, I looked for and suspected IC 880. It would be easy to confuse with a UFO. Then, I glimpsed M 42. It appeared to be a whale spouting.
After a short break to chat, I star-hopped to B 429. It appeared at low power like an edge-on barred spiral with a sharp dust lane. Then, for a real challenge, I hunted for B 482. It reminded me of a spitting cobra. Then, I hunted for IC 2964 in Ophiuchus. It reminded me of George W. Bush. After I'd spent a few minutes looking at that, I studied Abell 70. It seemed almost an edge-on barred spiral with a sharp dust lane.
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 a poetry reading marathon.