There was only one man alive who remembered Zee-Poo Dyba. His name: Arthur Skipt. Arthur was 97 years old, and lived in Tallahassee Florida. Being the very dedicated biographer I am, I made a pilgrimage down.

When I showed up at Arthur's door, he brought me in thinking I was his cat, Billican. I told him I was not Billican, but he offered me milk, and who am I to turn down free stuff? I figured, anything to get him talking.

And he did, at leangth. Though, not always about what I wanted. Arthur was an... eccentric man. But, eventually, I steered the conversation towards Zee-Poo Dyba. When I mentioned the name, Arthur became very distant. His eyes glazed, and his hand, which gripped a silver cane, shook slightly. It should be mentioned here that Arthur is wearing a yellow sweater and grey golf pants.

Arthur looked at me, though not at my eyes, for the first time of my being there. He appeared deathly serious, and stopped calling me Mr. Billicans. I leaned foreward in my chair, and got my pen ready. This was the moment of my career.

"I think I need to go to the little boy's room," said the wise old man.

The endeavor lasted a full half hour, and by the time we were returned to our original positions, the moment of magic had been lost. Arthur stopped calling me Billicans and started calling me by his dead wife's name, Bartha.

I tried again to get him back to the subject of Zee-Poo Dyba, but the stalwart man would not budge. I ended up making him dinner while he shouted at me, asking if I had paid the bills. I made chicken pot pie, and had to put it in the blender for Arthur.

Arthur and I then resumed our seats in his old-fasioned living room, which was adorned on all sides with various bits of golf paraphernalia. I again steered the conversation towards Zee-Poo Dyba.

This time, Arthur mistook me for a mouse and chased me (slowly) through the house with a broom. I eventually allowed him to catch me, and he beat me lightly with the broom while shouting "Down with the vermin! Out, out I say!". He wouldn't stop until I started squeaking like a mouse.

Arthur and I ended up in his living room again. Him sitting in his easy chair, me on the couch, pen poised and ready. He stared blankly at the wall for a long moment, and then said, "Remember the Alamo" and passed out for the night.

I dragged the old man into bed, and remained in the house for the entire night, sleeping on the rough, old couch. I simply could not leave, not before I had the secrets of Zee-Poo Dyba. It became a pivotal subject of my life, and I would have it. I was determined to have it. I fell asleep with the thoughts of Zee-Poo Dyba on my mind.

I awoke to find Arthur sitting in his chair again. He stared through me for a long moment, and then said, "Woman! Where's my breakfast!". I mad him eggs. My eternal reserve of patience was running out. I must have Zee-Poo Dyba! I must have the secrets! I must know of it, and this... this, this silly old man is my only ticket!

When I brought them the eggs, he made me tell him a story about a bunny rabbit named Turtle while he ate. My temper was at its end.

I finished the story, and Arthur said, "Give me a bath."

I screamed that I would do no such thing. I yelled at him, saying that I had come for Zee-Poo Dyba, and just that. I wasn't his cat, I wasn't his maid, I wasn't his wife, I wasn't a mouse!

Arthur stared at me for a long moment to make sure I was done. Then, he nodded slowly, and then, for the first time, looked me straight in the eyes.

"You're right," said Arthur, "You are not a mouse, or a maid, or a cat, or my wife. You are not my mommy. You are a Necessary Apocolypse."

Arthur, with a satisfied lok in his face, closed his eyes and died.

I stood for a long moment, with various thoughts running through my head. For the sake of space, I'll merely tell you what I did after that.

I entered Arthur's bedroom, and saw his diary on the table. I picked it up, and flipped through it. Nothing worth mentioning until the last page. On it were two entries, that day, and the day before it. The day arthur died was Thursday the 13.

The Diary's page read:

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Friday 12,

Dear diary. A man has entered my life. I think I shall have some fun with him. My time is almost at hand, and I am happy that he showed up. I was hoping not to have to go through with this without an audience, or anybody attending me. I do not know his name, but I have been having much fun with him. He seems resiliant, and keeps asking me about Zee-Poo Dyba. I shall not tell him. I cannot... but soon, he will know. When he reads this, which he will, he will know. He will know that he has always known.

Thursday 13,

Dear Diary.I became Zee-Poo Dyba.

This is a Necassary Apocolypse.This is a Necassary Apocolypse.This is a Necassary Apocolypse.This is a Necassary Apocolypse.This is a Necassary Apocolypse.This is a Necassary Apocolypse.This is a Necassary Apocolypse.This is a Necassary Apocolypse.This is a Necassary Apocolypse.This is a Necassary Apocolypse.This is a Necassary Apocolypse.This is a Necassary Apocolypse.This is a Necassary Apocolypse.This is a Necassary Apocolypse.This is a Necassary Apocolypse.This is a Necassary Apocolypse.This is a Necassary Apocolypse.This is a Necassary Apocolypse.This is a Necassary Apocolypse.This is a Necassary Apocolypse.This is a Necassary Apocolypse.This is a Necassary Apocolypse.This is a Necassary Apocolypse.This is a Necassary Apocolypse.This is a Necassary Apocolypse.This is a Necassary Apocolypse.This is a Necassary Apocolypse.This is a Necassary Apocolypse.This is a Necassary Apocolypse.This is a Necassary Apocolypse.This is a Necassary Apocolypse.This is a Necassary Apocolypse.This is a Necassary Apocolypse.This is a Necassary Apocolypse.This is a Necassary Apocolypse.This is a Necassary Apocolypse.This is a Necassary Apocolypse.This is a Necassary Apocolypse.This is a Necassary Apocolypse.This is a Necassary Apocolypse.This is a Necassary Apocolypse.This is a Necassary Apocolypse.This is a Necassary Apocolypse.This is a Necassary Apocolypse.This is a Necassary Apocolypse.This is a Necassary Apocolypse.This is a Necassary Apocolypse.This is a Necassary Apocolypse.This is a Necassary Apocolypse.This is a Necassary Apocolypse.This is a Necassary Apocolypse. Zee-Poo Dyba is not your mommy.

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I closed the book, and set it on the table. Nothing that happened after that is relevant. It was all Zee-Poo Dyba.