User Data
I Agree
Our Terms of Use and Privacy Policy have changed. To continue use of this website, you must agree to the Terms of Use and Privacy Policy.

Jeeves' Place (Coming Soon)

Sneak Peak Now Available!

SmackJeeves Comic Contest Winners Can Be Found Here:
Add to Favorites
On Hiatus
Last Update
13 Years Ago
Sneak Peak Now Available!

SmackJeeves Comic Contest Winners Can Be Found Here:

Recent Comments

This is a random non-author comment
Vito sends this one in, becoming the first person other than me to submit a FSG, which is awesome considering how big of a slacker I've been with JP...

Speaking of which, I need to put together the JP-contest. :D

Vito says:
"(Sorry this took so long to get to you. But this is my free script I'm giving away for you to put up. Link to my comic: aaaaaaand that's about it.)"

Please go check out his site!
Reginald Tufkins -- By Vitotamito
Reginald Tufkins


Sun shines through a window.

A cat with a giant Mustache wakes up squinting in the light.

Putting on his Confederate Army hat, Reginald Tufkins walks to a mirror.

Standing at his best attention, Reginald salutes himself in the mirror.


A mouse in a Union Army hat peers out of his mouse hole at Reginald Tufkins in front of the mirror.

Grabbing his pack of Lucky 7 matches, the mouse scurries across the floor.

Behind Reginald Tufkins, the mouse lights a match.

Then he lights the entire pack of matches.

Reginald Tufkins sits back down smiling to himself.

Smoke rises by his nose and he looks down.

Text Box: Turns out there was no war.
Image: field of graves. A man stands in the center of them.

Text Box: It was all a lie
Image: Close up, the man wearing a Trench-coat, and a hat. It's raining, and smoke is drifting up over his shoulder.

Text Box: 14 million people died.
Image: Far off shot of graves.

Text Box: A drop in the bucket to the trillions of lives that makes up our little empire in space.
Image: The man's face, scarred. He looks like he's struggling to not scream.

Text Box: Two moons, devastated.
Image: Space. The A moon sits in the foreground, another in the background. We can clearly see that both moons are wrecked, debris, both metal and rock orbit them, forming rough rings around their circumference. In the foreground, a corpse floats.

Text Box: And they don't even want to believe it was real.
Image: Another shot of the devastation, closer to one of the moons. You can clearly see the havoc whatever weapons were used played with the moon. Chunks of the planet have been carved out.

Text Box: Sure, we gave as good as we got.
Image: The man smiling, humorlessly as he sits on a gravestone.

Text Box: Fifteen colony ships. Approximately one-third of their entire civilization.
Image: Space. The ruins of 15 ships, scattered and broken. Alien corpses float around them.

Image: Man lighting a cigarette.

Image: Up-angle shot of the man, chin up, blowing smoke out.

Text Box: Not that it matters much. It's all being swept under the rug.
Image: Full shot of the man with his eyes closed, still on the grave. He is facing another grave, which has a large arrangement on flowers before it.

Text Box: We're all friends now.
Image: Human and aliens shaking hands, cheesy, cheery. Big press conference.

Text Box: The aliens come in peace.
Image: Close up of the human and alien shaking hands. Both are waving.

Text Box: ...Since the other method failed so spectacularly.
Image: Another shot of the devestation.

Image: Man rubbing his jaw.

Text Box: They're supposedly here to help now.
Image: Silhouette of the man on the gravestone, looking down. Other graves are nearby.

Text Box: They've got technology, we've got space.
Image: A valley, one of the Alien Ships is being gutted to turn into a Colony.

Text Box: It's a beautiful arrangement.
Image: The press conference of smiles again.

Image: A flower arrangement in front of a gravestone. The man's shadow is cast over them.

Image: Man standing there, staring at the flowers.
Man Speaking: I wish you could see it, Lydia.

Image: Gravestone reads Lydia Casewell, Born 2344, Died 2363

Image: Close up of man's head. His eyes are closed, he's broken inside.
Man Speaking: It would make you ill.

Image: Man walking away. Down rows of graves.

Image: Further back, man still walking. The two broken moons hang in the background. A colony ship, pristine and shiny, slowly descends.
Notes On The Script:
Animus drew up a wonderful version of this comic, which can be found here:
They Stole It From Us
1. Dark, establishing shot outside a facility.
Text box: They stole it from us...

2. Int. still dark, but a skylight can be seen.
Text box: It really is as simple as that,

3. same, but a dark ninja-type shape is slipping through, dropping out of sight.
Text box: though I'm sure the historians will likely say otherwise.

4. on the ground, the dark-ninja-type shape lands with grace.
Text box: They'll say it was our pride,
our race's greatest cultural achievement,

5. Ninja-shape is joined by two more.
Text box: and that without it we,
as a people, would be a good deal less than what we were...

6. Ninja-group runs towards well lit door.
Text box: But we're dying, slowly so I don't see what it matters.

7. at the door now, the ninja-shapes spread to either side, barely seen.
Text box: It won't save our people or show us the true worth of our culture or any of that poetic crap.

8. From the well-lit hallway, staring at the dark door, as the ninja-shapes peek out. We can see for the first time they are not human.
Text box: It's meaningless, just a bauble.

9. Ninjashapes, better lit down (and very much non-human), running down a hallway.
Text box: But it's ours, and they stole it from us...

10. Guard sees them and shouts.

11. The creatures look back at the guard, one of them throws something
Text box: And we want it back...

12. The guard staggers back, a large blade embedded in his chest
Text box: ... At any cost.

13. The creature slinks over and recovers its knife. They continue down the hall.

14. A security door. The creatures spread out, one of them bows down beneath a console, fiddling with the wires.
Text box: But then, I've never been much of a tale-weaver. What I say is simply what I feel.

15. The door (from the other side) slides open, and the ninjas stand there.
Text box: I cannot take the actions of a few, and make them into heroes.

16. Show the bauble finally, a shape that's both alien and beautiful. It's about the size of a desk-globe, roughly circular.

17. The creatures stand there, staring.
Text box: Especially when I know that these were not the best brightest, strongest, or fastest that we had.

18. Another guard sees them and calls out.

19. The creatures split up as the guard starts shooting.
Text box: We were not the most honorable, the most ethical.

20. The creatures hide behind museum displays.
Text box: Some of us I'm sure were doing this out of greed, out of envy, and out of spite.

21. One of them stands up and throws another blade.

22. The guard catches it in the head.
Text box: We were thieves.

23. The creatures turn back towards the bauble, protected in a glass case.

24. One of them smashes the case open.

25. The creature holds it up over his head and laughs.
Text box: It's a good thing I've never listened to the storytellers anyways.

I'm Not Human.
1. Setting - Close up of a man's face. Youthful, moody.
Textbox: I've realized it's all a lie

2. Setting - Guy stands at the edge of a sci-fi tower (preferably balancing on a narrow beam or some such), a fantastic city spreads out below him. He wears a cloak or a coat which billows in the wind. He is not smiling.
Textbox: It almost worked, though. For a moment, I almost believed

3. Setting - A slightly different shot, showing the man standing there, but now we can see there are orderlies nearby. Big brutish men in white shirts and nametags. They are calling out to him, gesutring for him to come back. We can't hear them, though.

4. Setting - Back to the guy's face. He's smiling, slightly.
Textbox: But it was never true. I was never meant to be there.

5. Setting - A close up of the orderlies gesturing and shouting. Still, we cannot hear them (maybe use empty text bubbles to show they are talking?)
Textbox: I'm not insane.

6. Setting - Back to the second show, the man turning away from the orderlies, facing out to the edge.
Textbox: There was something they never told me. Something I just knew.

7. Setting - The man steps off the ledge, arms outstretched.
Textbox: I'm not human.

8. Setting - Black.



July 2nd, 2007

Yeah, me too.
Yeah, I think I'm happy with that.
Yep, you found a page that's not really here.


User Comment Title!
Reader Comments will go here!