Live it Again by Geoff North

with
those numbers on it. That was an awfully long time to wait for a life of luxury
and carefree comfort. Surely he had enough knowledge about the future that
could pay off sooner than that. In less than a decade he could start buying
stock in the little software companies that would become giants, and not long
after that, in the early nineties, he could invest in the online companies.
    Still too far away. He needed something
that could produce cash right away. Those comic books only had a month or so of
shelf life in the store before new titles took their place.
    I’ve been given this opportunity to live
my life again…to make countless billions, and all I’m worried about is comic
books?
    Why not? He was only ten years old after
all. It wasn’t like his parents were going to lend him a few grand to play with
on the stock market. The only other thing he had any extensive knowledge about
was hockey. He could list off every Stanley Cup Champion back to the early
forties, who they had defeated, and in how many games. He would have to wait a
few more years before wagering in professional sports.
    Maybe he could become a forecaster of future
events like that Nostradamus guy. Bad idea, he thought. If he told the world
who would be president in 1980, or warned them of future terrorist attacks, he
would probably find himself thrown in prison, or worse, have his brain picked
apart by scientists to see what made him tick.
    If he tried to change history too much, he
was likely to screw his own future up. He might never meet Cathy; never have
the kids he loved.
    Maybe I could do better? Perhaps meet
some rich super model, or a famous movie star… I could travel the world a hundred
times over. Why have children at all?
    He groaned and threw the newsletter on top
of the desk with the rest of the clutter. He flopped down on the bed and shut
his eyes.
    I’m an evil, uncaring bastard.
    How could he for even one second consider
denying them their future? It was his family, sometimes dysfunctional, but
whose family wasn’t? It was his…and he was theirs. He was a husband and a
father. It should be-- would be his only goal in this second life.
    Get them back.
    The sound of a dog barking outside brought
him out of his deep, troubled thoughts. He peered out the bedroom window and
saw a big, scruffy collie at the base of a fir tree in the back yard. Hugh
opened the window excitedly and yelled. “Colonel! Up here boy!”
    The dog stopped woofing and looked around
to see who’d called his name, one floppy ear perked up.
    “Up here, Colonel! I’m up here!” Hugh
pounded on the windowsill with both hands. Colonel finally spotted him and his
pink tongue lolled out to one side affectionately.
    “You remember me, hey fella?”
    The collie turned his long snout back to
the tree and his frantic barking resumed. He could sit there for hours yelping
at squirrels and birds. Hugh pushed away from the window and bounded down the
stairs. He had known the old dog for as long as he could remember. His parents
told him he was the same age as Gordo. Colonel had been a much better sibling
in Hugh’s opinion than Gordo had ever been.
    He rushed by Heather near the bottom of the
steps. “Excuse me,” he said giddily.
    “You’re going to break your neck if you don’t
slow down.”
    In his mind, Hugh saw a fleeting image of
Benjamin, his little body curled up at the base of the stairs on the cellar
floor in 1992.
    Not today.
    He pushed the thought out of his mind, ran
through to the back porch and rushed outside.
    “Colonel!” He yelled still running. “Come
here boy!” The dog’s long head bobbed back and forth in time with his wagging
tail. He woofed one final time and half-ran to meet the boy. He was old and
stiff, the result of living a long, active life on the farm. Hugh slid on his
knees, finally blowing the thin jean fabric clean through, and wrapped his arms
around Colonel’s warm neck. The dog gave his face a lick and offered him a