I am the heir of irony.
I am purple-wise violet blabbery, cause I might be a royalty.
I am paradoxical, the humbleness of gluttony.
I am a fire ant- tiny bite makes you rusty.
I am pebbles in the bush, a stone moldy.
I am sugary sweet then Tabasco spicy.
I am nine thirty seven a-m, eight of January.
I am a riddle hidden in the remedy.