Good morning, everyone! Right now on Pen Island, it's 10:04 AM on Thursday 30th June, 2020. Hmmm…there doesn't seem to be any news for today. Hey! Did anyone catch that drama on TV last night? I love cop shows so much! The action and excitement of car chases almost make me wish that I joined the police…but I don't think I could put up with blood-pumping adrenaline thrill rides all the time, I'd be far too tired. Err…oh dear. I guess that doesn't really qualify as "news", does it? Anyway! Have a good day out there today, folks!

The museum stood overlooking the distant shores, waves lapping over each other is a calm motion with heavy wooshing crashing onto the beaches of the island, as if the sea itself was breathing. Early morning, or at least it felt like it. The curator, Blathers, was standing guard in the lobby, as he always ensured he always way. The other creatures on the island didn't share his tendency to be nocturnal, so he often found himself dozing off as he waited for visitors. It was an art he'd become quite astute at, even if the sudden arrival of a guest did startle him.
That wasn't a problem today. It was quiet, calming. He could rest in peace and take the day off. The museum's collection was growing considerably, and its once empty halls were something he could display proudly. Even the surplus of the museum's more…hexapod vertebrates among the collection was something that Blather's could exhibit satisfactorily, albeit hesitantly.
All that was missing from the collection was the brontosaurus pelvis. He dreamed of the mighty giants that once roamed the Earth, finding himself in complete awe of the nature of the fossils that cropped up on this island. He wasn't one to ask questions, was Blathers, so exactly how there was a great concentration of fossilised dinosaurs from a range of prehistoric periods on this one remote island was beyond him. And frankly, they were beyond his concern, too. Maybe he'd have to go off island to find this troublesome pelvis that was avoiding his grasp for so long. That's what he thought, and that's what he dreamed of. Until the gift came.

Blathers found the present whilst taking a breath of fresh air, enjoying the wafts of the salty breeze that was flourishing in through the doors. The sun was setting by the time he had left his post, and he was stirring out from the slumber he'd drifted himself in to. That's when he found the small wrapped present on the museum's doorstep. It wasn't uncommon for rogue gifts to float across the island, and he'd never precisely divulged himself into the mysteries of where they came from or what was inside them. They'd often come in balloons of some description and would be shot down by some bandit or another with catapults.
Blathers didn't concern himself with them. But this one, right at the tips of his talons, captured his natural curiosity. There was no harm in taking a small peek, he reasoned with himself. He looked around himself to see if he could find the claimant. But the beach and its surrounding greenery was abandoned. The only company around being a wretched, little butterfly, and Blathers soon remembered what kept him from venturing outside so often.
He picked up the gift with his wings and unwrapped the silken crimson bow that tied it so carefully. Its weight was heavy and certainly gave some resistance. But the thing that attracted Blathers the most as soon as he lifted that lid was the smell. Ah, yes, he thought. The smell that had become so familiar to him over the past months. Upturned earth, the raw, unfiltered stench of soil. It was pungent in the fossils that villagers kindly donated to his cause, and the exact same smell penetrated him here. This was certainly an unorthodox method of donating, he reckoned. Even if he didn't have the fossil in his collection – even if it was that illusive pelvis – could he accept it? Wasn't this fly tipping? But maybe, if there were no peering eyes, it could be a worthy addition to his personal collection…
Blathers opened the gift. Peeked inside. Studied the bones. Hootie hoo, he thought, I don't believe we have this in the collection! And, indeed, he didn't. The structure of the skull was not like anything he'd ever seen. Too small to belong to any of the prehistoric behemoths he'd become so familiar with. His years of study, from both academia and personal enjoyment, he had never encountered anything so abundantly well preserved. As if it hadn't, in fact, survived the past several billion years. As if it was fresh. As if it were new.
Blathers studied further. He knew that skull shape.
He dropped the gift in fright.
Hoo-hoo!

Good evening, everyone. This evening's announcements are something rather more…grim that usual. I was hoping to spread some news about this latest crossword I've been doing, but…I'm afraid that will have to wait. I'm sorry that I have to report that there's been a murder.