Kicking the can with the ex-con

This is a story I wrote a few days ago. I've always been kinda crazy. Not dangerous crazy, more like quiet crazy. Since I've never been big and loud I often find myself diametrically opposed to big and loud people. One such person was an excon I'll call Tommy who liked to try to scare younger people. He was in his late 20's or early 30's I was about 17 then. At a large party in the hood Tommy declared that he could do more one handed pushups than anyone there. Like I said I'm quiet but kinda crazy. I took up the challenge and beat him easily. Being humbled by a kid didn't sit well with Tommy. He challenged me to a beer can kicking contest in front of everyone there. He wanted me to put up$50.00 against his .38 special revolver. I convinced him to do it for$20.00 and the bet was on. With 30 to 40 people looking on we squared off in the back yard. After much grandstanding and boasting Tommy kicked his can about 10 feet away. I knew I could beat that and no amount of tauting was going to stop me. I kicked my can three times as far as he did and won the bet. Grudgingly Tommy emptied the shells from his pistol and handed it over. I excused myself to the restroom to examine my prize. Soon Tommy was knocking at the door wanting to bet an old uzi machine gun with a broken stock for a chance to get back his .38. I declined. He then offered me the use of his woman for an hour if I would give back the pistol. While he and his woman ironed out the terms of the deal I slipped quietly from the party and disappeared into the night. I kept a low profile for a few days. I don't know why he wanted that damn pistol back. It was a piece of shit gun that sprayed lead into the face of the person dumb enough to shoot it. Last I heard of Tommy he died of a drug overdose.