For Shootin’ Sure

Baby blue polyester 60s-70s shift dress with detailed flower embroidery. Fits like a modern L. Dress is in great shape! There’s a back metal zipper with that standard hookie at the top. Measurements taken flat:

Waist: 19.5-20
PtP: 21
Hip: 22
Width at hem: 27
Length: 43

Price: $25 plus s&h
Email me to purchase!


And now…for the story.

It was hot. Clara plodded along the side of the dusty gravel road in her grandma’s Hush Puppies, wearing her grandma’s going-to-the-dentist dress. She’d been riding in her grandma’s car, but the Oldsmobile had picked today to choke itself into a belated grave.

The car was nearly as old as Gram, after all. But when you had to hightail it back to your hometown with nothing but the clothes on your back, you didn’t get to be choosy. Not about the car you drove and not about the change of clothes your grandma offered you so you could run a casserole over to Millicent Travers for the potluck at the church tomorrow.

At least the Hush Puppies were comfortable.

With a sigh, Clara hitched Grandma’s purse more comfortably on her arm and rounded the curve near the Petersen’s farm. It was about three more miles back to town and the car repair shop, where hopefully they’d run a tab for the repairs to the Olds. She didn’t have the money for a new pair of shoes, much less whatever it would take to fix whatever was causing smoke pour out from under the hood of the car.

Speaking of pouring, sweat poured down underneath the thick polyester of the dress. Though the flowers embroidered on it did look a lot like a couch, it was actually more comfortable than she’d expected. No waistbands, no Spanx, no wrinkles.

No blisters, either. Yet.

Behind her, the rumble of a large, powerful motor interrupted Clara’s muttering of curses and the tweeting of the birds in the field beside the road. Could it be? On this back road? Another car?

Clara whirled and started waving as the black sports car approached way too fast for a road this gravelly and narrow. But it slowed in time, the tinted windows hiding whoever was behind the wheel. It eased halfway off the road in the grass on the shoulder and the front door popped open.

A tall male figure rose out of the car. “Mrs. Bellwinkle, I saw your car a ways back. What are you… Clara?”

Oh, hell. John Bee Petersen.

“Hi, John Bee.” Clara wiggled her fingers, Gram’s purse heavy on her arm. “Catch a ride?”

John Bee wiped the ballcap off his dark head and bent over laughing. “Clara Bellwinkle. Of all the people. What did you do to your Gram’s car?”

More like, what had Gram’s car done to her? “I’m not a car person. It died?” She shrugged.

“And what are you doing wearing your Gram’s clothes?” he asked next, between gasps. “What are you doing here?”

“Can I get a ride to town?” she said instead, heading toward the passenger’s side. While John Bee had been maybe the worst person ever in high school, he was an adult now, like she was. Surely he wouldn’t…

“Hellllllllllll no,” John Bee said, hopping back into his muscle car with an almost witch-like cackle. “You can walk your ass there like I had to do after prom.”

The door slammed. Clara yelled, “That was not my fault! I wasn’t even the one driving!” but the black car was already thrumming to life and skidding in the gravel as it prepared to jet into the distance, leaving her to slog the remaining miles in the miserable heat.

So she pulled Gram’s pistol out of the heavy black purse and shot out one of the wide back tires of the ridiculous car. If she had to walk, by gum, so did John Bee.


To purchase the “For Shootin’ Sure” blue polyester Gram dress, please contact me or leave a comment below! Here’s one of my kids who did not like the dress. She’s terrible, sorry.

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