DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own Up. Sad. I wanted to do this not only for a change of pace from my regular stories but also because Up doesn't have many stories. It only has . . 36 stories. Isn't that just sad? This is inspired by the end credit in which Russell is showing Carl how to use a computer. Story time!
"Mr. Fredricksen, can you come help me?" Russell called from the computer. The computer sat on his little wooden desk in his home's office. Today, his mom was out doing errands and Mr. Fredricksen and Dug had come over, as usual, and Russell had just found the coolest new game. Thing is, you need to 'grab' a grown up before playing it, as the commercial said. Russell was sure that Mr. Fredricksen did not want to be grabbed, so he called instead.
"Yes, Russell?" Carl said as he slowly made his way into the room using his walker, Dug bouncing along his heels.
"I like the balls on the bottom of your metal legs, Master. Can I have one of the nice balls?" Dug asked excitedly.
"No, you may not," Carl answered gruffly. Dug shrugged and ran under the desk, tickling Russell's socked feet.
"Dug, that tickles!" Russell squealed. He leaped off of his computer chair and Carl slowly sat on it. Pushing his walker aside, he straightened up and asked, "What do you need help with Russell?"
"I need you to watch me while I play a game," Russell explained.
Carl groaned. "And why do you need me to watch you play a game?"
"Because the commercial said I had to," Russell answered patiently.
Carl groaned yet again as he replied, "You can't believe everything you see on TV, Russell."
Russell's eyes grew big. "I can't?"
"No, you can't. So how about you play your game while I watch from over by the window," Carl said as he prepared to get off of the chair. Before he could do so, however, a pop up ad popped up on the screen. "What's that?" he asked, a bit alarmed.
"That's just an ad," Russell explained as he stooped down on his knees. Dug ran up to him and started licking his face, shouting, "Oh, I like you! I like you very much!" Russell laughed and scratched Dug's furry belly as he called over nonchalantly to Carl, "You can ex it out."
Carl looked from Russell to the computer screen and said, "How?"
Russell looked up from the panting happily dog and said in an awed voice, "You don't know how to ex something out, Mr. Fredricksen?"
Carl slowly shook his head, wondering if he should know how to ex something out.
"Haven't you ever ex-ed something out before, Mr. Fredricksen?" Russell asked in the same voice.
Carl slowly said, "No." Russell gulped before he asked, "Haven't you ever used a computer before, Mr. Fredricksen?"
"No," Carl said in a louder voice.
Russell turned white, mouth agape, looking like he had just seen a ghost.
"Wow, Mr. Fredricksen. Just . . . WOW," was all that the eight-year-old could say. He stared at Carl for a moment, which made Carl shift in his seat uncomfortably, and then the boy instantly brightened. He brought over another chair and sat on it, saying excitedly, "I can show you how!"
Carl gulped as Russell took a device that was sitting by his right hand and said, "This is a mouse."
Carl grunted and picked the white 'mouse' up by its cord, dangling it in the air. "A mouse is an animal, Russell, and this is not a mouse."
"But that's what it's actually called!" Russell said brightly. "I didn't name it that."
"Sure you didn't," Carl said as he let the mouse fall back onto the pad it was sitting on.
"Now," Russell said patiently, "put your hand on the mouse." Carl obeyed, albeit a bit confused as he gingerly placed his fat fingers on the surface of the mouse. It felt a bit weird, to say the least.
"Now, see that little white arrow on the screen?" Russell asked. "Move the mouse around on the pad and the arrow will move too. Put the arrow on the E right there!" Russell pointed to the Internet Explorer symbol.
Carl tentatively moved the mouse all around the pad. The arrow flew across the screen wildly, but it didn't see to want to go on the E Russell was talking about. Carl shook the mouse in the air just as Dug placed his front paws on the desk and panted, "Can I have one of the nice balls now, Master?"
"No!" Carl growled. Russell immediately grabbed the mouse and said, "Calm down, Mr. Fredricksen!" He slowly lowered the mouse and old man's hand back onto the pad. "There."
Carl grumbled something in gibberish as he clumsily moved the arrow onto the E.
"Now use your second finger to click," Russell explained.
"Huh? What?" Carl asked. What was there to click?
"Just press your second finger down."
Carl did as he said and a browser loaded, revealing a white screen with letters spelling, 'Google' in a funky way. The letters looked like weird and creative animals.
"Why does it look like that? Don't people use regular English on this computer thing?" Carl asked, a bit disgusted.
"It's called the Internet, Mr. Fredricksen, and yeah, they do. I do, at least," Russell answered. "Now, where do you want to go?"
Carl looked at the boy and shrugged. Russell looked at him back and the only voice in the room was, "How about now, Master?"
Russell turned back to the computer and said, "Well, let's get you an email address. You'll need it for a lot of stuff, AND," he said excitedly into Carl's ear, "IT'S FREE!" Carl cringed and leaned away from Russell, hastily fixing his hearing aid.
"Is there stuff that's not free?" Carl asked, wincing as he fiddled with the device in his ear.
"Well, if you go shopping, then yes, and sometimes you need to pay to go on certain sites," Russell explained.
Carl looked at him with a puzzled face and said, "What's a site?"
Russell waved his hand in dismissal. "I'll explain later. First, email address."
Carl let Russell take control of the mouse as he leaned against the back of the chair. Using the computer was hard!
Russell went from site to site until he came upon one where he could get Carl an email address. He straightened and sat ready to it fill in.
"Okay, first, what's your first name?" Russell asked, turning to Carl. Carl grunted and Russell whispered to himself, "Carl. Last name? Fredricksen. Okay, what is your desired login name?"
Carl really had no idea what he meant, so he shrugged and was about to talk when Dug piped up, "Master! I like Master!"
"Dug," Carl said in a warning voice.
"Master works," Russell said brightly as he typed it in. "Master . . . Tennis Balls!"
"Russell!" Carl yelped.
"I like Master Tennis Balls," Dug said excitedly.
"No, Russell, I am NOT going to be Master Tennis Balls!" Carl said to the Wilderness Explorer, "just do Carl Fredricksen."
"Okay, if you want it to be BORING," Russell sighed as he retyped the login name. Carl sat back in his seat and grumbled.
"Okay, what's your password?"
"Master!" Dug repeated.
"No, it has to be eight letters or numbers long and something no one would think of," Russell said as he thought. He smiled and turned to Carl, "How about elliebadge?"
For the first time since he arrived, Carl smiled. Yes, that was a very good password.
Russell typed it in and then asked, "'Choose a security question.' You can make up your own."
Carl thought a moment before he said, "How about, 'What's your dream home?'"
Russell smiled, "I know the answer to that! Okay, andddddd," he said in a drawled out voice, "what is your birthday?"
Carl folded his arms and said, "I'm not telling you."
"Okay then, I'll guess," Russell said and he stroked his chin with his finger as he observed, "You're about 100, right?"
Carl instantly sprang to life as he shouted, "I'm 78!" When Russell stared at him, completely numb, not scared or happy, Carl wiped his head with his hand and said, "February 12th, 1931."
Russell perked up and fell to the keyboard. "That was all I needed to know, Mr. Fredricksen!" Carl sighed and wiped his face again. This was too much chaos and excitement for his old age.
"Now, where do you live?" Russell asked curiously. Carl only gave him a look before Russell turned back and said to himself, "'United States.' And, you have to type the two words to make sure you're human."
"Human?" Carl grunted. "Of course I'm human. Do they think a-a parrot would be getting an email address?"
"No. I don't know why they have that question," Russell noticed, "but you need to do them."
"Ahhh," Carl waved his hand, "you do them."
"Okay," Russell said, turning back to the computer screen. "Lard and newtsburg."
"Newtsburg?" Carl groaned under his breath.
"Do you com-ply with all the rules set by the email company?" Russell asked. "What does that mean?"
"Just click yes," Carl sighed. Like he wanted to read in very tiny print a bunch of rules that he won't remember at all and waste even more of his time reading.
"Okay, Mr. Fredrickson, you have an email address! Let's surf the web!" Russell cried.
"I hate getting wet on the beach, Russell," Carl pointed out.
"It means doing stuff on the computer, Mr. Fredricksen. Where do you want to go?" Russell wondered. For the next hour, the two talked and bickered, Russell offering ideas for sites and Carl quickly shooting them down.
Dug fell asleep under the desk after managing to drag Carl's walker over to where he lay. He chewed at the tennis balls and fell asleep while doing so.
The late afternoon's sun was about to go down when Russell finally sighed and leaned against his chair, "That was all the sites I know."
"That's it then?" Carl said hopefully, straightening up in his chair.
"There's only one thing I can think of that's left, and it's solitaire," Russell groaned, dragging the arrow over to the Games. Carl sat straighter and said, "Solitaire?"
"Yeah, only old people play that. No offense," Russell said as he opened a game. Carl ignored him and gingerly took control of the mouse. He clumsily took a two of spades and moved it over. He soon started smiling as he grew more confident in his mouse skills. Within five minutes he had won the game.
Carl started another game and promptly played for hours. Russell leaned on his hand with his arm propped up against the desk some of the time, sighing an awful lot. His mom presently brought in Chinese takeout, and Carl ate as he played.
The hours dragged on. The window let in darkness and the only light in the room was the computer screen. Russell traced the desk while Dug snored underneath their legs. Sometime near eight, Russell took Dug outside for a bit leaving Carl playing solitaire inside.
At nine Russell came back into the office, dressed in his pajamas and hair wet from a bath. He resumed his seat and sighed as Carl played his 134th game.
At ten, Russell yawned and said, "Mr. Fredricksen, I have to go to bed soon."
Carl looked from the screen to Russell and said, "What, what time is it?"
"It's 10:00," Russell yawned again.
"Oh," Carl's eyes widened under his glasses. He pushed back the chair and took his jacket, which he had draped over the side of the chair, and put it on hastily. "Sorry for staying so long."
Russell led him with his walker and a sleepy Dug out of the room and down the hall to the front door. "It's okay."
Carl smiled and patted Dug on the head. "Thank your mother for everything, and, good night, Russell."
Russell yawned yet again and smiled as he said, "Good night, Mr. Fredricksen."
Carl turned to go but turned back to Russell and said, "Can I play again tomorrow?"
Russell smiled and nodded. "Sure, Mr. Fredricksen."
Carl smiled back and tipped his head and turned on his heel and headed down the hall of the apartment building Russell lived in, Dug trotting next to him. Russell waved after them and closed the door. Heading back to the office, he turned off the monitor and said in the dark, "Good night, Mr. Fredricksen."
There, all the Internet stuff is owned by Google and all them peoples. I hope y'all liked it and thank you for reading!