The Pension Plan

By Jerry Hooten

Retirement isn't for sissies. Two old retirees decide they need a new pension plan.

75 yrs old. Korean War Vet. Retired. Suffers from Arthritis. Widower: Wife Ruby, deceased after fighting cancer for 10years. Treatments and doctor bills took all their finances. Had to take out a second mortgage. Retirement package was invested in company bonds that went belly up, now tries to get by on Social Security. Drives 10 year old pickup truck. Balding on top, brown eyes. Still gets around pretty good. Good friend, Ron Maxwell, another widower, meets with him for coffee every morning at their coffee shop hangout. They stop in at their VFW (lifetime members) for beer and cards about every day. They both dumpster dive for cans and bottles which they redeem to get money for their beer at the VFW. Robert paints landscapes that he sells at a small shop in a strip mall. Makes barely enough to pay for materials.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jerry Hooten
• Release date: Aug 9, 2011
• ISBN: 9781466039230

Jerry Hooten

Retired from law-enforcement/security. Resource for mystery writers.

Book preview

Preface

Robert Bennett is 75 yrs old, has brown eyes and is balding on top. He is retired, and is a Korean War Vet. He suffers from arthritis, however, he still gets around pretty good. He is a widower. His wife Ruby died after fighting cancer for 10years. Treatments and doctor bills took all their savings. He also had to take out a second mortgage on his home to pay the medical bills. His retirement package was invested in company bonds that went belly up and he now tries to get by on Social Security.

Bob drives a 10 year old pickup truck. He also paints landscapes that he sells at a small shop in a strip mall. He makes barely enough from the sales to pay for materials.

Bob’s good friend, Ron Maxwell, another retired widower, meets with him for coffee every morning at their favorite coffee shop. They also stop in at the Veterans of Foreign Wars (VFW) (lifetime members) for beer and cards about every day. Bob and Ron both dumpster dive for cans and bottles which they redeem for the money they use to pay for their beer at the VFW.

Chapter 1

Ron walked into the coffee shop. He had on his old brown leather jacket, his favorite. He came over to the table and sat across from me. I had already ordered coffee for both of us. He took his cup and added a packet of sugar. He looked up at me, stirring his coffee with one hand and holding the cup with his other. Starting to cool off.

I nodded in agreement. I took a sip of my coffee. Hate to think of having a heat bill. Ron nodded agreement. We need to go south.

I snorted. We couldn’t afford a roll with our coffee. Don’t think we will be going south for the winter.

We sat there in silence for awhile. Contemplating the coming winter. Not a pleasant thought. Heat bills meant we had to cut back on groceries. Eat or stay warm.

I wonder what Ernie is going to do? I asked, He’s worse off than we are.

He was, Ron replied. You know he went on title nineteen in July. So he’s in the assisted living place over on Washington Avenue. No more heat bills for him.

No, I didn’t know that. I said.

He had to get his total resources under two thousand dollars, which wasn’t that hard, he barely had that much anyway after that last bout with the doctors.

Tell me about it. I said, I know how that goes. Ruby’s cancer treatments just about broke us.

He had been on welfare, you know, food stamps, other assistance, but still couldn’t make it on his social security. He was like us, his retirement was all in the GM Bond fund and that’s gone. Now, he’ll get to keep fifty dollars a month out of his social security to pay for his personal items, the rest goes to the assisted living place. Ron added. At least it’s a decent place to live, and the food there isn’t all that bad.

I was wondering about him. I looked at Ron and grinned, Maybe we should try that.

Ron didn’t think it was funny. Probably won’t have a choice, if things keep going south, and I don’t mean ‘us’ going south.

Ron continued, Oh, and out of that fifty bucks he has to pay for some of the doctor ordered drugs, which is about twenty five, and another six for his drug insurance. Plus, if he needs a haircut, or snacks, or about anything else, all has to come out of that same fifty bucks. They never told him that when he was going on title nineteen.

They sure have things screwed up in D.C. I talked to Joe Runnells the other day. You know Joe, he’s the vet with the disability. Can’t walk without his crutches.

Sure, I’ve known Joe for years. Ron answered. What about Joe?

They increased his disability payments.

That’s great. Ron said.

Joe doesn’t think so. They cut his social security the same amount.

What! Ron squeezed his coffee cup so hard, he spilled a little on the table. He started wiping it up as he looked at me. How can they do that?

Don’t ask me, but they did.

Bastards!

Got that right.

And how about John? Ron asked me. You know, John Bishop?

Yeah, I know him, and no, what's up?

He needs a kidney transplant. He has to do dialysis three times a week until he gets one.

Jeez! Good luck with that. He's what, seventy?

Yeah, because of his age, there are all kinds of restrictions.

What's he going to do? I asked.

"He told me,