Monday, December 8, 2014

Skull Gun Bunny Comic Sketches

Below are a few more Skull Gun Bunny sketches from the weekend. 

If anyone would like to purchase one of the originals, they are available for $30. Email us at for further details. Payment can be made via Paypall. At the moment we can only ship in the U.S.A. but we hope to have international shipping set up once we can figure out how to make it affordable. 

Thursday, December 4, 2014

Skull Gun Bunny Artwork

I'm working on some ideas for Skull Gun Bunny posters for next year's cons…this is an idea I'm liking…I may turn it into a print or poster next year. 

Skull Gun Bunny Villain Bios

Skull Gun Bunny Villains
I've been working on character designs for several villains that will appear in future issues of Skull Gun Bunny. A few weeks ago, I did a spontaneous drawing of a couple of shady characters that I spent the last couple of days refining. I wrote a biography of each character and drew a one page comic that's a "cliff notes" synopsis of their backstories. I'll be coloring these eventually, but the coloring is on the back burner until I finish two other projects. I'll repost the colors with the inks once they're all colored.

FIfi Cliche
Fifi’s last name is Cliché. He’s always hated that name. He tried to change his name when his family immigrated to the states, but his family wouldn’t let him. They said that their family name was a proud symbol of wealth and prosperity in their homeland. Fifi argued that in their present homeland, their name was a punchline.
Fifi saw his surname as a sign that Fate was screwing with him, so he decided to fight back. He left his family in the countryside and moved to the big city. He looked for work in the city, but his lack of legal immigration documentation landed him with only the crummiest of low-wage jobs. After months of penny pinching, he saved enough money to buy a fake credentials with the name of Fifi’s own choosing—“John Doe”. Armed with his new credentials, “John” went job hunting but found himself mocked yet again. He was perplexed. He didn’t understand why people laughed when he said his name. He’d heard the name referenced numerous times on American television. He’d heard the name used so many times on TV, that he assumed it was just a wildly popular name in his new country. Angry that he spent his life savings on a mockery-inducing ID, Fifi returned to “his guy” and demanded a new ID. “His guy” refused. Fifi responded by tattooing the name “John Doe” onto his guy’s forehead.
Fifi’s outburst carried with it severe repercussions. “His guy” got a couple of goons together and scoured the city looking for Fifi. When they found him, they tried to break his knees but failed. They didn’t know that Fifi had spent most of his life as a manual laborer on a farm. His farmhand muscles turned the table on his attackers and he beat them senseless. He picked their pockets and left them to lick their wounds.
The thugs reported back to their superiors expecting reinforcements, instead they got fitted for cement shoes and Fifi was hired as their replacements. When offered employment as an enforcer, Fifi’s only requirement was that he could change his name again and have permission to break the legs of anyone who referenced his old name. A bargain was made and Fifi began a lucrative career in crime. Armed with yet another new name, he served his crime bosses well. He didn’t mind the fact that his partners kept getting killed and replaced by rookies. His constantly screaming, blow-hard boss never bothered him. He just worked steadily and kept his head down until he became the best at what he did, even though what he did wasn’t very nice. He worked so hard and so efficiently that his overbosses feared he’d eventually replace them. They proposed that he retire early, with an agreement that they could call on him for the occasional odd job. They agreed on a retirement date and everything was good to go, until Fate intervened.
FIfi’s last job before retirement was supposed to be simple, but it resulted in a blood-bath. Everyone died except for Fifi and “the package” which turned out to be a genetically manipulated baby Chihuahua named Guffin. Something about the baby melted Fifi’s ice cold heart that day. He adopted the baby as his own and decided to settle into retirement as a single parent. What he didn’t know at the time was that his adopted son’s genes harbored some nasty surprises. When enraged, the boy’s body mass and aggression levels would expand exponentially. A single temper tantrum could result in the destruction of a city block if Fifi was caught off guard. Fifi relocated to the outskirts of town and took his son to various doctors hoping to cure his bizarre biology. Fifi’s medical bills skyrocketed and he found his savings dwindling. His bills forced him to come out of retirement and do one last job. Then another one…and another one…and another one. If the rumors can be believed, he’s currently working on his very, very, very, very last job before re-retirement. Pray that his last job doesn’t involve you. Fifi’s desperate, cash-strapped, and very good at what he does.

Pablo Dali

Every criminal organization has heard of the handiwork of Pablo Dali. He’s the modern expressionist of hitmen. He turned gang warfare into a literal art form.
He made his first big splash in the big city by eliminating an entire crime family in a flamboyant fashion. Once he dispatched the gangsters, he arranged their bodies so that they mirrored Da Vinci’s last supper and then decorated them with cute little party hats. He then wrote a rather lovely poem on the wall, penned with the blood of his victims. The media ate up his handiwork. The Pablo Dali Christmas Massacre became so sensationalized that by the year’s end, a local rapper wrote a song about it. The album went triple platinum, won a Grammy, and resulted in the mysterious disappearance of its writer.  The police couldn’t pin the hit on Pablo, but the criminal underworld sure knew who did it.
The crime syndicates scrambled to dig up dirt on who Pablo was and where he came from, but there was nothing to dig up. Pablo has no known family and no known homeland. It’s rumored that he’s a student of the martial arts, although nobody knows who trained him. First-hand accounts of his combat prowess describe him to be multi-limbed, each limb wielding a different weapon. Snitches that work for the police report that when he’s called before mob bosses for a job, he just “poofs into existence”. He steps out of the shadows, accepts the job and payment in advance, and then his victims wide up on the evening news, killed in a vicious but strangely beautiful manner. Some people say he’s the reincarnated spirit of a vengeful forgotten artist, others say he’s the embodiment of the modern day Marquis de Sadis. Pop psychologists theorize that he’s an exhibitionist who fancies himself a performance artist along the lines of Andy Kaufman….just with more sadistic punchlines.
The only real facts about him come from eyewitness testimony from criminal sources. A year ago he was said to have been hired by the heads of two of the largest crime families in the world. They were planning to attend a peace treaty of sorts where both organizations planned to double cross the other. Both crime bosses hired Pablo to publically humiliate the other boss, so Pablo complied. He kidnapped each of them and then humiliated them in front of each other. He live cast the footage to the entire world. The crime families tried their best to scrub the transmissions, but some third world countries still received the signal. The event almost shut down the internet in several portions of the globe. One of the bosses had a homing beacon in his tooth which saved his life. His location was tracked and raided but Pablo escaped. All that was found in the raid were the two bosses dressed in pink tutus, various props that had been used to humiliate them, and a room filled with punching bags filled with the skeletons of Pablo’s past victims. The police and government officials made a token attempt to apprehend Pablo, but they mostly spent their time laughing at pirated copies of the crime boss’ humiliation and arresting the criminals who were caught on camera during the raid.
Pablo’s whereabouts are currently unknown, but his legend continues to grow as does his artistic oeuvre.

Alexandra Katzinburg, a.k.a. "The Widow"

Alexandra Katzinburg was born with a silver spoon in her mouth. She grew up in upper class society and enjoyed all the privileges that come with having a millionaire for a father. She enjoyed her silver spoon until midway through college when her family’s fortune went up in literal smoke. An experimental global defense platform fell from low orbit and destroyed a small Midwestern town. The government had to blame someone for the fiasco, so they chose to persecute the manufacturer of the platform, Alexandra’s father. He and his entire family were publicly humiliated, their financial assets seized, and their credit ratings ruined forever. Alexandra was forced to drop out of college. When faced with the prospect of living out of a hotel with a plastic spork instead of a silver spoon, Alexandra became desperate. She accepted a still-standing marriage proposal from one of her father’s business associates hoping that a rich husband would solve her money problems.
Her marriage lasted 6 months, before disaster struck when her husband perished in a freak fishing accident. A few months later she remarried. Her second husband also experienced an unfortunate accident. Receiving the financial assets of two dead husbands awakened a money-fueled bloodlust in Miss Katzinburg . By the time the authorities discovered what she was up to, she’s laid low 10 wealthy husbands and an undetermined number of lovers. The local aristocracy feared that the salacious details of her trial might encourage further women to follow in her footsteps, so drastic measures were taken. They paid off the judge, jury, and lawyers so that Alexandra was sentenced to death. She was on her way to the electric chair when a last minute rescuer appeared with a rocket launcher. This unidentified person (presumed to be one of her many lovers) brazenly freed her from police custody when she was being transported to death row.
Alexandra’s rescuer was a total stranger to her, but she willingly fled with him from the scene. He said that he was a scientist who had fallen in love with her while watching news reports of her trial. He told her that he wanted to help her, to make her into a better person. For a moment, Alexandra actually believed him, despite his rather hideous appearance. Romantic notions conjured up from her repeated viewings of The Phantom of the Opera started to bubble up inside of her…he would be her disfigured Phantom and she would be his black-widow Christine Daae. She planned to indulge his romantic notions until the appropriate time, and to then dispatch him like the rest of the men in her life. Unfortunately for her, she didn’t act quickly enough. Her man of mystery turned out to be exactly like the Phantom of the Opera—insane.
His pledge to make her into a better person actually meant that he was going to turn her into a hideously deformed gene-mutant. He mixed her feline DNA with that of a spider’s and warped her into a vicious killing machine, which he then leased out to crime families, drug lords, and the occasional black-ops military operation.  In the criminal underworld, Alexandra became known as “The Widow” and her services earned her creator untold millions. Her employer wiped out most of her memories (a side effect of the trauma caused by the mutation process) but on occasion, she almost remembers who she used to be....if the day ever comes where she fully regains her memory, her fury will be like the fires of hell…only hotter.

Triple J

Jimmy Jonah Jeremiah, or “Triple J”, was born into a backwoods redneck family. His mother drank, smoked, danced, and fornicated the entire time she was pregnant with Triple J, which probably explains why he came out the way he did—a three-headed freak of nature.
Jimmy was supposed to be born with two brothers, but he absorbed them in his mother’s intoxicated womb and all that came out was Jimmy and something extra. Jimmy’s brother’s Jonah and Jeremiah emerged as a gruesome twosome attached to the top of Jimmy’s head. Their brains and personalities were intact, but they were missing everything from the neck down. Jimmy’s brothers resented the fact that he got most of the lion’s share of their body so the three of them fought and bickered constantly. Their spats drove Momma crazy, so she entered the boys into an underground kitten fighting ring. She figured that a good fight would either cause the boys to band together or give them a butt-kicking they’d never forget. Much to Momma’s surprise, Triple J won the match and earned Momma some extra drinking money. Momma saw green and Triple J’s future was sealed. He dominated in the illegal kitten fighting rings and once he was old enough, Momma entered him into the cage fighting circuit.
Triple J earned enough money that Momma bought herself an entire trailer park just to get drunk in. The boys got whatever money was left over. Money didn’t matter much to Jimmy as long as he had food in his belly and a roof over his heads. Jeremiah lived for the fighting, so he was happy as long as Jimmy was throwing punches. Little Jonah was the smartest but the smallest out of the bunch. He saw that Momma was taking 90% of the profits and the boys were getting shafted. He grew resentful and at night, he would try to think really hard about Momma’s deceit in the hopes that his thoughts would “trickle down” into his brother’s heads. After months of sleeplessness, Jonah’s efforts finally succeeded.
Jeremiah and Jimmy realized that they could participate in more fights and eat more food if Momma took a smaller cut of the profits. They confronted Momma about the money, but they did so at the worst possible moment. Momma was on a particularly nasty bender…to say she fell off the wagon doesn’t cut it... She fell off the wagon, grabbed an ax, chopped up the wagon, and burned it so she could never get back on it again. She flew off in a furry and Triple J thought he’d won the argument, but he was mistaken. She returned demanding that he throw the nights match. She bet all their money on him losing. If he threw the night’s match, she’d take the winnings and leave him be. He refused and she stormed off in huff. When he returned from that night’s fight he found a giant bag of tacos sitting in his locker room with a note saying they were for him. He thought they were a peace offering from his mother. They weren’t. One of Momma’s drug buddies laced the tacos with nitroglycerine and an accelerant. A few minutes after ingesting the tacos, Triple J exploded. Jimmy and Jeremiah were knocked out by the blast, but Jonah’s will to live was strong enough to keep them all alive long enough to reach the hospital. The doctors transported them to the ER, but the power went out and the floor of the operating theater caved in. Triple J’s body dropped into the crevice and vanished.
Jonah thought he was going to die, but he woke up in a high-tech laboratory with a creepy-looking doctor instead. The doctor said that he was an inventor who worked closely with the hospital. He’d created a piece of nanotech prosthesis that could save Triple J’s life, but he wasn’t allowed to test it on living subjects. He saw Triple J wheeled into the ER and took matters into his own hands. Jonah’s brothers suffered catastrophic brain damage from the bomb attack leaving them no smarter than bricks. For the first time in his life, Jonah took charge over Jimmy’s body. The doctor said he has to keep Triple J for observation to make sure there were no unforeseen complications with his new nanobot hands and torso. The doctor trained Jonah to use his nanohands in exchange for Jonah’s help around the laboratory. On most days Triple J helps the doctor do mundane tasks, but on special days, he gets to go outside and help the doctor by punching people, robbing graves, and participating in other doctor-related tasks. Jonah doesn’t really understand why the doctor has him dig up graves, but it doesn’t bother him much. As long as he has tacos in his belly and his appendages keep working, he’s happy to help his benefactor in any possible way. Even if those ways might be a little illegal.

Scot (a.k.a. Wolfenswine) & Xandra

Scot and Xandra were a match made in heaven. God blessed them both with wicked good looks and dangerously low I.Q.’s…so they naturally ended up dating each other. They were high school sweethearts that continued their meathead romance into college. Scott was a fabulously muscled football player and Xandra was an effervescent cheerleader. The two of them played hard on the sports field and partied hard off of it. They probably should have dialed back on the partying a little. Their song was “A Little Party Never Hurt Nobody”…in their cases, partying did. It caused them to drive off the side of a cliff.
One second they were falling, the next second they were dead and their souls were floating in the netherworld. They found themselves in front of a translucent door with the words “Game Room” inscribed on it. They entered and found themselves in what could only be described as the hall closet of Scot’s grandmother. It was a room stuffed with all sorts of obscure board games, outdated video game consoles, and sports equipment.  They wafted towards a small sign that said “Rules” on it, but they had difficulty reading it…so a talking door in the corner explained what it said. Because they died in a violent, unexpected manner, they would get a second chance at life. If they could challenge Death to a game and defeat him, they will be returned to life. If they lost their match, their souls would remain in limbo until judgment day. Just as the two of them were about to challenge Death to a game ofDance Dance Revolution: Drunk Frat House Edition, they were suddenly sucked back into the mortal realm.
While their souls were outside the time space continuum, their bodies had been stolen and resurrected. The funeral home where their memorial services took place robbed their coffins at the last minute and sold their bodies on the black-market. A creepy-looking doctor purchased their remains and transported them to his underground laboratory where he converted them into cyberzombies. The instant he flipped the switches on their bodies, their souls were sucked back into their retooled bodies. Scot’s torso was replaced with a genetically modified wolf’s head and his innards were all rearranged. Xandra’s limbs were replaced with electrical extensions and powered by a massive battery lodged in her spine.
Xandra was horrified to see her new body. Scot actually thought that the wolf’s head was pretty awesome. He sort of liked their new situation in life until he realized that his favorite parts of his girlfriend’s anatomy were now encased in a non-removable electro conductive material. When he found that out, he went nuts and trashed the lab.
The two of them broke free of their restraints and escaped into the night. They tried to return to their dorm rooms but were run off by hysterical roommates. They discovered that although they could understand each other, non- zombies heard nothing but the word “brains” when they spoke. Scot and Xandra couldn’t return to their families in such a state, so just sort of wander through small towns avoiding the police and mobs with shotguns.  They’re often spotted robbing 7-11’s and Taco Bells. Xandra is often spotted pilfering electronics, possibly hoping that they will allow her to communicate to someone other than her boyfriend. Reports say that Scot spends most of his time angrily smashing things. His outbursts are probably due to sexual frustration.

If anyone would like to purchase one of the originals, they are available for $30. Email us at for further details. Payment can be made via Paypall. At the moment we can only ship in the U.S.A. but we hope to have international shipping set up once we can figure out how to make it affordable.