I Made These 16 Dark Humor Comics To Mess With Your Brain A Little

“Cartoons are my pressure valve,” says Stephen Sonneveld, pausing to reflect on the minimalist absurdity that defines much of his comic series JOLLY. “Sometimes the world feels too cluttered, too loud. I like stripping things down to a few lines, a few words—and letting the ridiculousness shine through.” Known for pairing stark line art with offbeat, often dark humor, Sonneveld’s cartoons have an uncanny knack for making you laugh and flinch at the same time. Whether it’s a barefoot man holding a sign that reads ‘Donate through our app’, or two men misreading a Rorschach painting with disturbing honesty, his work quietly pokes at modern contradictions with a crooked grin.

“I started out in theater, actually,” he admits. “There’s something similar about writing a stage play and writing a comic—both rely on timing, on space, on what you choose not to say. I think I’ve always been fascinated by what a character’s silence tells us.” That theatrical background is evident in his radio projects like The Don’t Call Me Sweetheart! Show, a scripted audio performance that blends noir, satire, and old-school drama. His characters often feel like they wandered off a stage and into a panel.

His work in comics took a leap forward after winning the Mad Cave Studios Talent Search, leading to the publication of Hollywood Trash, a satirical action romp about garbage collectors uncovering murder cults in the heart of Tinseltown. “It’s pulpy, it’s bloody, it’s got a lot of teeth,” he says. “But it’s also a jab at celebrity culture and the junk we worship.” Another of his creations, Greye of Scotland Yard, delves into surreal detective noir. “I wanted to write a procedural where the clues barely make sense but the mood does,” he explains. “Like Kafka met Columbo.”

But it’s not all irony and grit. “I wrote President Pug because I wanted to see what a pug presidency would look like. Turns out—less tweeting, more napping.” He laughs. “Sometimes, after diving into dark satire, you just need a talking dog in a tiny suit.” His children’s book work, much like his comics, merges sharp cultural commentary with silliness, a balance that keeps his creative well from running dry.

“What I hope,” he says finally, “is that people walk away from my work a little amused, a little uncomfortable, and maybe a little more aware of how weird we all are.” Whether it's through comics, plays, or pug presidencies, Stephen Sonneveld’s voice is one of irreverence, curiosity, and that rare gift of making you laugh just before you wince.