The moment she catches a glimpse of Bunnymund she's going to be on cloud nine, wishing the one in that broadcast from France had been anything like this one.

"Uuuugh, the minotaur" Shelley sighs. She's not terribly happy with that one. "Back then I was a journalist, so obviously I wrote about all the stuff that happened around. Ac-ti-on news, from yours truly, just that instead of adventures and interesting people, it was a lot of bureaucracy and the latest news in civic events. Then it was minotaur time and it just..."

She gestures with her hands vaguely, trying to indicate it was a mess.

"One night I was coming home with a coworker when he found a minotaur in a barn near my house and he warned me, so we went and I saw it and I did what any reasonable person would do and I wrote an article about him! Then I got assigned another, and another, and another. It was such a hassle because novelty wears off. But he was nice! There were a lot of PSAs and visits to childers and to the elderly. Who didn't love that guy?"

Only Shelley can say 'the novelty of a minotaur existing wears off' with the same nonchalant expression of someone who says they got tired of eating salad with their lunch and wanted a change.

"Then...uh..." Shelley grimaces. "He..." she's not sure if she should be honest or not but after some doubts she states: "...then he got murdered in an international incident when a visiting robot ambassador fried him with its laser eyes"

Shelley stops for a moment. She's well aware what she just blurted was a lot of nonsense, but it's the truth.

"Major tragedy. Nobody can look at barbecues the same way since then"

Alas, she's mercifully unaware of the truth -- that it was a murder arranged by the local government because they feared it was inevitable the minotaur would maul someone. It could happen at any moment, so they manipulated people around and took measures.

Weird things happen in Tackleford.