BankBank

Pangalushu threw a stone into the pond. It skipped three times and then
quietly slipped into the murky abyss. Turkey Lips then screamed at the top
of his lungs “PANGA STOLE MY POWERSTONE.” It was true. The stone was not
Pangalushu’s. He stole it from T.L.’s top drawer the night before. “MOM,
THAT WAS MY LAST POWERSTONE!” cried T.L. There was visible pain in T.L.’s
mom, Turkey Tips. She knew that without a powerstone, he would soon die.
“Why didn’t I make it more clear to him that he needed those stones to
live” she thought to herself. A single tear dropped from her eye.

 Turkey Tips recalled all of the powerstones they had squandered in years
past. She had used one to prop up the ping pong table in the basement of
the old house that burned down in an arson fire. There were the myriad
stones used to kill her husband, Turkey Grop. She had convinced all of the
villagers that he was a witch after she found out that he had flown a kite
without her permission. “WITCH! WITCH!” they cried as she handed out
powerstones, one by one, to the angry mob. T.G. had no chance.

She turned around to look back at the pond and saw Turkey Lips hunched
over Pangalushu, falling to the ground and grasping at Panga’s shirt. T.L.
was dead, and she knew it. She then attached her buzzsaw gloves and ran
over to Pangalushu and cut off his whole head and dismembered him real
fast.