Creative writing prompt

"It was three days before they found the body. It was well preserved, I guess. I mean... as well preserved as a body could be in the Mojave, in a duffel bag. What I mean is, no varmints could get to him in it, and he dried out pretty quick.

I can still remember the look on Tony's face when he un-zipped the thing. I swear by my mother's grave that the air came out so quick from the damnable thing that his hair flew back. He spent the next 40 minutes puking out his lungs.

God Damn I miss Quentin. He was a good pal. Great at dumping bodies. In fact, I have a feeling that he's real pissed that he got such a piss-poor dumping. I mean... the Mojave? In a fuckin' Duffel Bag? If he'd had the same equipment and the same time, we'd never have found the body. Never.

Anyways, we had him cremated - he always said that was the easiest way to hide a body, cremation. All you'd have left was ashes - and scattered him in the forest. What's that? How'd we get him cremated without too many questions asked? A steel mill in Jersey owes The Boss a favor or two, so they were happy to oblige in letting us borrow a forge. And we paid off a trucker to stash Quentin in with some Broccoli. I never eat the stuff, myself. Not since we shipped off someone from the GiTurno family in a truck full of it. Apparently, he drools when dead, if you catch my drift.

Eheheh, don't worry about it. I'm not part of the Mob anymore. I paid my dues to the Boss a long time ago, and he let me off with all my fingers intact. Tony wasn't so lucky, actually. I hear his shoes fit real well, though. Even if they are a bit on the heavier side of things.

Remember your half of the bargain, though. What's your story?"