Three Red Pills

So my mom taught second grade forever. To her credit, she is an amazing teacher. Crazy-ass mother but, man-oh-man, can she teach people to read.

When she would have a really bad day in the classroom she inevitably called me to make sure that her final wish be honored. Nothing like "pull the plug if I become a burden" (because we would have pulled that years ago) or "please give money in my name to..." (Momma does not believe in charity, "God helps those that help themselves" is her motto).

Nope, this conversation involves the old folks' home and illiterates. Ever the optimist, my mother is convinced that she will have several strokes and end up "drooling in a wheelchair" for 30 years. Her biggest fear is that "some moron" she taught will end up as the "pill passer-outer" at the home and she will die from an overdose because the aforementioned moron can't read.

Ergo, she makes me swear that, should she end up drooly and (even more) mentally incapacitated, I will do the following:

I am to make a large sign for her to wear around her neck. She wants it to read "Hello, my name is Mary and I need THREE RED PILLS." On said sign, I am to draw the pills and color them in appropriately. That way in case dumbass can't read, they will hopefully be able to follow the pictures and not kill the old bird.

I have decided that I will, additionally, laminate this sign so that the drool does not make it run. I know, I know, my kindness knows no bounds.