She Is a Flobbergooser
She is a vixen, a siren, a flobbergooser, a tramp.
Because she wears a dress? I asked, confused.
Because she wears a red dress.
There are answering murmurs.
I am working on the Alzheimer’s unit
This is the first thing these three women have agreed on.
Don’t look at her! Don’t speak to her! Don’t…..
“HI!” Doris says as the flobbergooser approaches our table.
Her dress is gorgeous – red with tiny pink and yellow birds.
She has the best smile, and she returns the “hi”.
They decide to include her; she sits at the fourth chair.
I hear them oohing and ahhing about her dress.
So is she a vixen? A siren? A tramp? A flobbergooser?
I smile as I fix them hot fudge sundaes.
“You are a femme fatale!” One yells out.
The others nod.
The red-dressed woman smiles.
“At least I’m not a flobbergooser!” She yells.
They laugh until they fall into their hot fudge sundaes.
Best place ever to work.
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