Trying something new this year! I saw an ad for the Webcomic Secret Santa Exchange on my site. I checked it out and read the premise:


“The Web Comic Secret Santa, originally started by Liz Walsh of The Tao of Geek, is an exchange of comic gifts. Comic creators submit their comics to a list, and on a specific day, a random comic (not their own) is sent to them. Each artist must then produce a guest comic or a piece of fan art for the assigned comic.”


This year I decided to opt out of my usual thought process which consists of, “Extra work and socializing? Fuck that!” So I signed up and this is how it went down.


I was randomly assigned the comic “AntiBunny”. Take a look at it. That’s some art work there. And you know who sucks at art work? ME. I can’t even cheat by just rearranging already made comics (like I do here for IDK). And I have to create a guest comic or some kind of fan art for this? Oh boy. So I asked if I could just write something and they said something to the effect of, “I’d rather you not”. So I thought about it for a few days, thumbed though the archives, and decided to write something anyway. Here’s what I sent out today:



Hello and Happy Holidays!


I have good news and bad news!


Good news:

I am your Secret Santa for 2012!

Very nice comic! You have kept it going for quite a long time, and it is good to see that you have a nice following of friends and a tight community! I especially loved all the bunny facts on the “About” page. The comic has an interesting look and a nice contrast in the more “film noir” style comics. Several comic storylines and spin-offs! Great work!

Bad News:

This is my first Webcomic Secret Santa Exchange, which is difficult for me because I am not an artist. I am primarily a writer, and I will occasionally do some rearranging of existing art. If you check out my comic, you’ll see what I mean. Anyway, enough about me. I just wanted to tell you that so that you know why you have received a gift in written form instead of an image. If you would like something art in addition to the writing, maybe we can solicit the help of the helper elves!


This is basically a short story with similar feeling and it lives in a world where people and bunnies coexist. Feel free to have it illustrated if you’d like!



The Fight Before Christmas


‘Twas a night like any other night before Christmas… Or so I thought.


This year was going to be different. I’m 7 years old now and the truth has to come out. I’ve heard rumors on the playground of Santa Claus not being real. Stories of other bunnies matching “Santa’s” hand-writing to their parents or, worse yet, catching their own parents in the act of placing presents under the tree. Disgusting. The rumors were causing fights all around the schoolyard, which wouldn’t normally be a problem, but a few scabs showed up on the wrong knees. A girl friend of mine came crying to me one day, showing me her wounds as an innocent bystander. She was a girl who was a friend, not a girlfriend. Don’t get any funny ideas. Yuck! But seeing those battle scars was the last straw. Something had to be done. The truth must be uncovered. These stories meant as much to me as Twinkle Twinkle without proof. I knew what I would have to do. I would have to get undeniable evidence of the fat man himself. This wasn’t going to be easy. But the right things never are.


I knew Santa’s routine. I had studied his ways. I had the clear advantage. On this night before Christmas, I prepared to trick St. Nick. I lined the rooftop-landing strip with a string of cans so, when he lands, I’d hear all the clatter. He won’t have the slightest idea of what’s the matter. I baited the living room with an irresistible treat, cookies and milk. Only a fool would turn down my mother’s Chocolate and Carrot Cookies. The trap was set and I was sleepy. It was time to crawl into my bed at the late hour of 8pm. I’ll need my rest for the conflict to come.


I awoke to the sounds of tangled cans and cursing. “What the fudge!”


With that cry, I knew the trap was sprung and the hunt began! I rushed downstairs to my pillow fort beside the couch and waited as I heard the clash of metal and hoof above me on the roof. I heard more angry and delicious epithets as the struggle continued.


“Son of a Biscuit!”

“Mother Fudge-Maker!”

“God Damn Cock Sucker!”


I’m not sure what that last one was, but it doesn’t sound as tasty as fudge. My plan was working; I could hear his mental cookies crumble as his feet began to stumble. He tripped down into the chimney and hit the bottom with a bounce. As he stood up and adjusted in the darkness, I had to wait for the right time to pounce. He dusted himself off and surveyed the room. It wasn’t until he stuck a match and lit his pipe that I did see his face. It was just as my research told me:


“His eyes-how they twinkled! His dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow.”


But was this the picture of infinite joyous tiding or the maw of mysterious mischief?


His eyes caught the cookies and he closed in on the bait. As he neared the plate, my breath ran short and my heart began to thump in my chest. He reached for the dangerous delights and then the time was at hand! I sprang from my fortress and clasped my indestructible plastic hand cuffs on his wrist and mine. The two was now one. We stared at each other in silence for only a moment, but it felt like an eternity; like those final minutes of 1st grade before summer vacation. He began to clap slowly and laughed a slow, “Ho, Ho, Ho”. His clapping caused our lights to flicker on and off which gave me a glimpse of his entire stature.


“He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot.
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.


That fur. That horrible fur! Surely it must have been the hides of other courageous and curious bunnies who failed in their attempts to capture him. What have I done!?


In my brilliant plan to arrest him, I had inadvertently turned myself into a hand-cuffed lunch box bunny. I saw my whole life flash before my eyes—watching Saturday morning cartoons, learning my ABC’s, and owning noobs on Halo 4. But I wasn’t going to go down without a fight.


I used our close proximity to my advantage and darted in front of him before using the cuff’s chain to swing up unto his arm. I scaled his shoulders and let loose a ferocious fury of furry kicks upon his face. He jutted his jaw and deflected my dance of blows to the pipe between his lips. The flaming torch tumbled from his teeth towards the tree. We could only watch as the smoking pipe began to smolder on the limb of the festive branch. The tinsel ignited with a burst and the ornaments began to explode from the pressure. As these glittered grenades denoted in front of us, fragments of heated plastic propelled through the air, I knew this was to be my final exit in a blaze of glory. But Santa seemed to think otherwise. He let out a thunderous laugh that shook the house. His voice repelled the debris and extinguished the fire. Then with a wink of his eye and a twist of his head, I knew that I soon had nothing to dread.

“He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk.
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose!”


Where fire once grew there was now a spring of presents! The stocking now fountains of gifts! And the decorations had been restored! The only item that was destroyed without a trace was the cookies and milk. A fair trade for a second chance on Christmas! Santa was to be a great ally, not a foe. My mistaken hostility could have ruined this special day for bunnies world wide! Now that I saw all of his raw power used to bring joy to bunnies all around I see that, perhaps, Santa is not an evil menace after all.


Settling down from my scuffle, I recalled the reason for my mission. All of that struggle and strife and yet I was left without evidence to calm the recess riots.


Later on, while I was looking in the mirror, I noticed something behind my ear. I took a good look and plucked it with care. It was a card of some sort, or so it would appear. In addition to the scars on my body and in my mind, good old Santa Claus left me this note to find. He accepted my apology and as proof of the fight, he left a simple letter that read:


“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!”




You can use that story or, if you’d like, just the image of a dark Santa Claus draped in dead bunny fur. A gruesome display of holiday cheer/fear!


Either way, enjoy!

Will Hightower

Writer of IDK Comics



As part of the exchange, I also received something. Here’s what I received:


When I first saw IDK, I confess that I had no idea what I was going to do for this secret santa, but I really enjoyed reading through the archive, and trying to capture the spirit of the comic was a lot of fun for me.

So here’s a comic about Christmas and jigsaw puzzles with a depressing punchline.

I hope you enjoy it!

Brendan Albetski
Hell To Breakfast Comics

Let's keep 'U' out of this picture



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