Saturday, March 30, 2013

Announcement: Coal Ridge

Greetings, fellow haunters of the blogosphere! Welcome to Iron Wyvern once more! I am pleased to see that less than half of you have been more than half-devoured by hippos.
Anyway, on to the important announcement. Our friend T. Baner has begun a side-project called "Coal Ridge" to be found at this web address:

He will post his poetry on this site, and has already posted some verse. He sincerely hopes for some constructive criticism and helpful input on his poetry. We, J & Z, recommend that you throw in a little praise as well, but don't tell him we said that.
Here's to T Baner and Coal Ridge!

Hip hip hooray! Hip hip hooray! Hip hip--AAAAAAAGHHH!!!!!!

Sorry about that. Having technical problems at the moment.

-J & Z Baner

The Zombies Are Coming - A Poem

Deep in the dark shadows
Walking on hallowed ground,

Black in the meadows,
Making such a sound,

A groaning, a moaning,
As closer they do tramp,
And the dead are quickly zoning
In on quiet camp.

The zombies are coming,
They're coming in the night
And they're mutt'ring and they're humming
Humming as they bite.

Sunday, March 17, 2013

Abstract Milkman Short Story

This is a short story I came up mainly as a humorous experiment. The first letter comparison of the J.T.Z. Baner literary personality, J, came up with writing exercises, such as; write a murder from the point of view of the attacker, and so forth, intentionally short short stories solely created to test your skill at exercising your ability to write in all fields of meaning, including the mundane. My favorite of these was, 'write about a normal day in the suburbs involving mainly a milkman', I thought this was a perfect way to try out abstract writing, purely a reason to write something exactly opposite to what it sounds and appears to be. from the mundane milkman short story came this.


The unsuspecting milk truck trundled slowly down the road, comfortably accommodated inside was the similarly unsuspecting, law abiding milk man operating the uncomplicated wheel and gas and brake pedals.


A thousand feet above, the stealth jet banked to the right, correcting its coordinates so as to be perfectly aligned with its mobile target. Its pilot gunned the engine, accelerating the plane another several knots.


the afore mentioned milk truck now screeched to a halt, its internal radar picking up an approaching hostile. Magnetic clamps shot from under the cab, grafting the once peaceful milk truck to the ground.
The whole truck gyrated, and then split into two segments. One half lowered itself to the ground, stabilizing the still-mobile second half. The second half split once more as it turned towards the sky. The top half folding back to lock in with the stabilizer block in the ground.

The once innocent, law abiding milkman now strapped himself in the reinforced seat behind the now rising sub-machine gun. Folding a protective bomber hat over his head, the milkman deftly flipped a pair of safety goggles on, while simultaneously flicking the Gatling gun into action.


Five-hundred feet above, the stealth jet went vertical as it dove toward the milk truck. A hail of bullets burst from the milkman’s Gatling gun, and the jet twisted violently to the side; it swerved desperately to the side as a tattoo of bullet holes were beaten across the jets side.
Now turning completely away, the jet rocketed away as it’s pilot gunned the engine.
Below, the milkman flicked several switches on his renovated milk truck’s control panel. The Gatling gun sank silently into the milk truck’s underside. Seconds later a complicated cone nosed machine leapt into the Gatling gun’s position. The milkman quickly locked into retreating jet’s flight path, and then cranked the machine’s activator switch, and the seeker missile burst from the milkman’s launcher and sped after the plane. Seconds later the fission of the plane became apparent as an expanding explosion rushed over the suburban area, an ejector seat activated its parachute outside the explosion and slowly sank to the ground, carrying the jet’s pilot to the ground swiftly.
The milkman’s truck slowly recreated its quiet milk truck alias, and then quietly want on with its suburban life. And that was when Iron Man showed up.

The End

Hope you enjoyed it.

Thursday, March 14, 2013

Ninth Riddling Derby Results

I have decided to officially end the Ninth Riddling Derby two sunsets before the supposed allotted time it was set to be discontinued, my reasons for this are varied, including my realization that presumptions that someone else will solve another riddle is tantamount to fantasy. and so I shall accommodate the middle of posting with the solved, and unsolved answers of these riddles.

Riddle Numero Uno Solution: Tree (as answered by Taisia Tinuviel)

Riddle Numero Das Solution: Parking meter (as answered by hyperlinkzer)

Riddle Numero Tres Solution: Europe

Thank you for your page views, and I hope you enjoy your week.

Ectoplasmic kitchen utensil!!!!!.......Uh, sorry, couldn't resist, sometimes I just get the urge to--NO, J, gimme the mike back, I need my mike time, its mine, MIIINe.......

Saturday, March 9, 2013

Ninth Riddling Derby!

Welcome, all, welcome, to the Ninth Riddling Derby on Iron Wyvern!

As the rules state, the derby starts now, and closes a week from today if everyone is stumped. Please consider these carefully. We'll give you virtual ice cream if you win, and an invisible crown of laurels, all for $0.99 er, free! Answer below!

And with that said, my buckaroos...RABBIT!!!!! Oh, sorry. False alarm. SQUIRREL!!! Sorry,, does anyone see that strange thing over there?!


Riddle Numero Uno: 

I am big and mighty, and scared of sharp objects.

I feed everyone and watch everyone go by.

I have my feet stuck and it's really annoying.

What am I?

Riddle Numero Dos; that means number two, for anyone who doesn't know, hehe:

I live in a busy place in the city,

I'll let you stay with me a while,

If you don't feed me, I can get you into trouble.

What am I?

And, last but not least, the dancing weasel act! I mean, Riddle Numero Tres! Please enjoy:

One am I, amongst six others,

Largest, smallest,

Cold, dark

And two brothers.

What am I?


And with that rolling, we'll go on to a draconian fun fact to start (or end, or amuse) your days with a bang!

You didn't hear it from me, but Scaligar keeps a private drake butler, who also mugs mail-dragons for him and keeps him in the know about Smok's (and anyone else's who annoys him) correspondence. And that means you readership, if you ever fall into bad favor with him.

Semithino likes a latte every once in a while.

Trubodox mugs him outside of Wingbucks when he's feeling that he deserves some java.

Please enjoy, and watch out for the bushwhacking hippos.