I Created A Few More Comics, And Here Are 16 Of Them

Why These Comics Exist in the First Place

I did not set out to create a grand, sweeping, noble comic saga about heroes, kingdoms, and prophecy. I set out to make people snort-laugh while holding their phones too close to their faces at 11:47 p.m. That was the mission. The mood board was basically “human behavior, but make it dumber and cuter.”

The best short comics usually begin with one strong instinct: a visual gag, a tiny emotional truth, or a sentence so ridiculous it demands a face to go with it. That is the magic of a good comic creator workflow. You do not need a 300-page lore bible. You need one funny premise, one clean setup, and one payoff that lands like a pie to the soul.

So this collection is not about being polished to the point of lifelessness. It is about keeping the energy loose, the timing sharp, and the joke honest. If a comic feels too neat, I usually distrust it. Real life is messy. Real thoughts are messy. Why should a comic about modern existence behave like it irons its socks?

Here Are 16 of Them

1. The Blob With Main-Character Energy

Every cartoonist eventually draws a creature that should not work and then becomes weirdly attached to it. Mine is the kind of little blob that waddles into a panel with all the confidence of someone who has never once been humbled by group projects. This comic works because the design is simple, the attitude is huge, and the joke is basically: yes, this tiny thing believes it owns the room.

2. The Old Joke That Aged Like Milk and Somehow Improved

Some comics sit in a sketchbook for months before they suddenly become funny again. Maybe the timing changes. Maybe the world gets stranger. Maybe your standards slip delightfully. This strip plays with that phenomenon: a joke so old it circles back into charm. Nostalgia and embarrassment make a surprisingly good comedy duo.

3. The Love Song Taken Way Too Literally

I enjoy a comic that hears a dramatic lyric and responds with, “Okay, but what would that actually look like?” Suddenly the metaphor becomes a visual disaster. This one turns emotional exaggeration into a physical scene, which is one of my favorite tricks in cartoon humor. The sillier the image, the more human the feeling behind it.

4. A Pet With the Confidence of a Regional Manager

Animals in comics are excellent because they can say what people are too polite, too tired, or too socially employed to say out loud. This one gives pet logic the spotlight: unreasonable demands, flawless self-belief, and zero concern for your schedule. It is relatable because anyone who has ever served a cat knows the real boss already has whiskers.

5. The Introvert’s Olympic Event

There should absolutely be medals for surviving small talk in public after you had mentally prepared to go home and become a blanket burrito. This comic takes an ordinary social interaction and frames it like a high-stakes endurance sport. That contrast does most of the heavy lifting, and the rest is carried by a face that says, “I am being brave and I hate it.”

6. Technology, My Old Enemy

Phones freeze. Apps update at the worst possible moment. Printers are still haunted. This comic is built around the simple truth that modern devices often behave like coworkers who are technically present but spiritually unavailable. The joke lands because technology is supposed to save time, yet somehow it keeps demanding a sacrifice.

7. The Tiny Existential Spiral

Not every comic needs a giant punchline. Sometimes it just needs one small thought that quietly opens a trapdoor beneath your feet. This strip starts with something harmless, then slips into low-grade existential dread, then swerves back into humor before it gets too intense. Think of it as emotional whiplash, but cute.

8. Grocery Store Theater

The grocery store is one of the best comedy settings ever invented. It has urgency, fluorescent lighting, snack-based temptation, and at least one person behaving like they have never seen an aisle before. This comic turns a regular shopping moment into a melodrama, because honestly, choosing between two nearly identical products can feel like destiny in ugly packaging.

9. The Friendly Monster Problem

I love drawing characters that look like they belong in a nightmare but act like they would absolutely help you move furniture. This strip leans into that mismatch. The comedy comes from visual expectation versus emotional reality. You see a beast; you get a sweetheart. That gap is where the laugh lives.

10. My Sleep Schedule as a Villain Origin Story

If I ever draw a true supervillain, it may just be my bedtime routine wearing a cape. This comic takes the familiar chaos of “I will sleep early tonight” and reveals it as the lie it has always been. One notification, one random thought, one deeply unnecessary internet rabbit hole later, and suddenly it is tomorrow.

11. Group Chat Archaeology

Group chats are part friendship, part digital landfill, part accidental performance art. This comic explores the bizarre rhythm of modern conversation: ten people, forty-two reactions, one unreadable meme, and somebody replying to last Tuesday’s message like the war just ended. If communication were a clean science, this strip would not exist. Thankfully, it is not.

12. Overthinking Deserves Its Own Cape

There is a very specific comedy in watching a brain turn one tiny moment into an entire imaginary courtroom drama. This comic gives overthinking the treatment it has earned: full theatrical lighting, terrible predictions, and a lead character who cannot stop writing emotional fan fiction about a text message that just says “k.”

13. Weather Betrayal, the Sequel

Weather apps are less forecast and more emotional thriller. Sunshine icon. Sudden downpour. Regret. This strip takes that betrayal and amplifies it into something almost personal, as if the sky itself saw your outfit and chose violence. It is petty, exaggerated, and unfortunately based on lived experience.

14. Creative Burnout in a Cute Disguise

Some of the funniest comics come from the least funny moments. This one deals with burnout, but not in a preachy way. It treats exhaustion like the weird little gremlin it often becomes: distracting, dramatic, and always appearing when you finally sit down to make something. Humor is sometimes the only way to make a hard feeling hold still long enough to draw.

15. Falling in Love With a Snack

Listen, not every emotional arc has to be noble. Sometimes the heart wants chips. This comic takes an embarrassingly intense food craving and treats it like a sweeping romantic confession. Big feelings plus low-stakes subject matter is a classic formula for a good relatable comic, because everyone has had a moment where a snack felt like personal salvation.

16. The Hopeful Ending That Sneaks Up on You

The last comic in a set matters. You can go out on the loudest joke, but I usually like to leave a little warmth on the table. So this one ends with a softer beat: still funny, still strange, but just sincere enough to remind you that not every comic has to roast reality. Sometimes it can pat reality on the head and hand it a juice box.

What Makes These Short Comics Work

Good comic strip humor is rarely about stuffing a panel with chaos and hoping a laugh falls out. The trick is restraint. One clear idea. One readable setup. One visual that earns the reaction. Even in absurd comics, clarity matters. If the reader has to wrestle the format before they reach the joke, the joke has already slipped on a banana peel backstage.

I also try to keep the emotional temperature human. The premise can be ridiculous, but the feeling underneath should still be recognizable: awkwardness, hunger, anxiety, affection, jealousy, procrastination, late-night confidence, next-morning shame. That is where webcomic humor gets its bite. Readers do not just laugh because something is weird. They laugh because something is weird and true.

Visual rhythm matters too. A comic lives or dies by timing, and timing in comics is often a panel problem, not a sentence problem. Where the pause goes. What the face is doing. How long you hold a dumb expression before the payoff. Sometimes the funniest part of the whole strip is a silent panel where a character simply realizes the universe has made a choice.

Extra Reflections: What It Feels Like to Keep Making More Comics

Making more comics after you have already made comics is a very specific psychological experience. On one hand, it gets easier, because you trust your instincts more. You recognize when a joke has legs, when a character design is doing too much, and when a panel needs to stop trying so hard. On the other hand, it gets harder, because now you know exactly how annoying the process can be. You know a comic can begin as a beautiful spark and end as three hours of moving one eyeball two pixels to the left.

But that is part of the fun. The more comics I make, the more I realize that ideas are rarely the problem. Attention is the problem. You have to notice things. The way somebody dramatically opens a bag of bread. The weird sadness of a leftover sock. The emotional confidence of a pigeon. Comics reward the people who pay attention to tiny nonsense. That is genuinely one of my favorite things about the medium.

I also love that comics let you turn fleeting feelings into objects. A bad mood can become a character. An awkward silence can become a panel. A ridiculous thought can become a whole little world with expressions, pacing, and a payoff. That transformation never gets old. It still feels a little like cheating, honestly. You take a moment that would normally evaporate, draw it, and suddenly it has structure. It can make somebody laugh in another city, on another schedule, in another mood. That is wildly satisfying.

There is also something comforting about the size of a short comic. A novel can glare at you. A film script can judge you. A four-panel strip says, “Come on, we can ruin this quickly.” That makes experimentation easier. You can try a stranger joke, a softer ending, a sillier design, a meaner punchline, or a sweeter one. You can fail fast, learn fast, and move on without having to drag a broken masterpiece uphill for six months.

And maybe the biggest reason I keep making more comics is that readers bring their own lives into them. A joke that started as my weird thought becomes somebody else’s exact Tuesday. A creature I drew for five minutes becomes a favorite character. A throwaway panel about exhaustion gets read by someone who says, “Okay, wow, that is me.” That little moment of recognition is hard to beat. It is funny, yes, but it is also connection. Not grand, cinematic connection. Small, human, phone-screen-sized connection. Honestly, that is enough for me.

So when I say I created a few more comics, what I really mean is this: I kept noticing things. I kept laughing at the wrong moments. I kept turning overdramatic thoughts into faces and shapes and speech bubbles. And somehow, against all odds, that turned into 16 more tiny stories. Weird little stories, but stories all the same.