Chapter Text
Barry returned to his cabana, crying softly into his arm. Upon bumping into a short, furry wall, he looked up, to see the man he had left Sans for. The so-proclaimed love of his life.
“You’re alright, no?” asked the Lorax. “Are you ready to go?”
Barry sighed, wiping his eyes and nodding slowly. “Yeah. I’m ready. As ready as I’ll ever be, at least.”
The Lorax held out his small, orange-furred hand, and Barry slipped his smaller leg into it. Employing his ancient tree majyyks, they warped through space over 2000 miles, finally landing in the midst of New York City’s Central Park.
Standing in front of Barry was a huge, roped-off tree. A sign next to it stated, “Property of Barry B. Benson, ruler of all and supreme overlord of humanity. None may touch.”
In the middle of the tree was a giant knot. Situated in that knot was an old beehive, once teeming with prosperity and life, now dormant and silent.
“I’m… home,” Barry breathed. “...Mom! Dad! Adam! I’m finally home again!”
The Lorax watched him zip into the hive, a secretive smirk on his flashy moustache.
Barry zipped and zapped and zig-zagged through the tunnels and passageways of the hive, calling out to his family members. “Mom? Dad? Adam? Anybee there?”
The hive seemed to be completely empty.
Everywhere that used to be golden yellow now seemed grayscale. There was no excited chatter of bees going about their jobs, or the congratulating cheer of new graduates from the Bee Academy. The honey had stopped flowing, and was now sitting, rotten, in the pools in the bottom of the hive. The air had a stench of sickly sweetness, which set Barry on edge.
“Mom? Dad?” he called again, to the empty space. “Anyone?”
Silence.
Barry began to feel anxious. Maybe no one was here at all, or maybe they had all gone out to pollinate. A stretch, but it was feasible. But the queen would always know where they were.
The queen!
The queen would know what happened to everyone! It was so obvious Barry slapped his fuzzy bee hands onto his fuzzy bee cheeks in despair. He flew off through the catacombs immediately, trusting his innate bee sense to guide him.
Arriving at the queen’s quarters, he shouted, “Queen! I need your help, I can’t find my family, everyone is gone--”
But what stood on the throne surprised him.
“Do you know the lifespan of a bee, Barry?” asked the Lorax, picking up one of the unhatched eggs that lay around the throne. “It’s around 30 days to 2 months. Far more time has passed since you’ve been hatched, hasn’t it, Barry?”
“No…” Barry breathed, terrified.
“Your family is all dead, Barry. They lost their stingers months ago. And those who didn’t died to old age. Not to mention the countless that were killed by humans, those nasty filth.” He shoved the whole egg into his mouth, and Barry saw it pass through his body like a snake eating a chicken egg, falling down and landing with a sickening crack into the curve of the Lorax's ass. Ah. So that's how it was always so goddamn juicy.
“But-- why did you take me here? Why did you take me if you knew they were dead?” Barry screamed, tears scrawling their way down his fuzzy bee cheeks.
“Because, Barry,” the Lorax smirked, “I have a proposition for you.”