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Run Like Crazy Run Like Hell by Jacques Tardi - preview

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Run Like Crazy Run Like Hell by Jacques Tardi; adapted from the novel by Jean-Patrick Manchette; translated by Doug Headline http://www.fantagraphics.com/runlikecrazy 104-page black & white 7.5" x 10.75" hardcover • $19.99 ISBN: 978-1-60699-620-1
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RUN LIKE CRAZY
Transcript

Adapted by

Jacques TARDIRUN LIKE CRAZY

Adapted by

Jacques TARDIFrom the novel by

Jean-Patrick MANCHETTEFANTAGRAPHICS BOOKS

RUN LIKE HELL

Julie found it hard to believe she had just shot

two men. She thought the idea was

hilarious.

Edited by Gary Groth | Translated by Doug Headline| Original design by Adam Grano | Production by Paul Baresh | Font designed

by Allan Haverholm provided by Christopher Ouzman of Faraos Cigarer | Published by Gary Groth | Associately Published by Eric

Reynolds | Editorial Assistance RJ Casey and Caroline Sibila | Run Like Crazy Run Like Hell © 2015 Editions Futuropolis | This

edition © 2015 Fantagraphics Books | All rights reserved, permission to quote or reproduce material for reviews or notices must be

obtained from Fantagraphics Books, in writing, at 7563 Lake City Way NE, Seattle, WA 98115 | Visit the Fantagraphics website at

www.fantagraphics.com | First edition January 2015 | Printed in Singapore | ISBN: 978-1-60699-620-1

1.

The man THOMPSON had come to kill, a ped-erast who had seduced some businessman’s son, walked into his bedroom.

THOMPSON plunged into his heart a rigid hacksaw blade mounted on a large cylindrical hilt with a circular sheet-metal guard.

THOMPSON vigorously shook the cylindrical hilt and the homo-sexual’s heart was sliced in two or three pieces.

THOMPSON left the room. No one had seen him come in, no one saw him leave.

2.

In the past half hour, THOMPSON’s stomach pains had become thoroughly unbearable. The cramps had him doubled over.

The killer decided he had to give up his trade. Soon. Each time, it got worse.

For the last ten hours or so, he had been unable to take in any food. Now that he had killed, hunger was gnawing at him in the most appalling way.

At the Perrache station buffet, he ordered a helping of sauerkraut and devoured it. He felt better.

He ordered another helping, and savored it. His stomach calmed down. So did his mind: THOMPSON had just earned a tidy sum of money.

It was 3 A.M. THOMPSON had an appointment in Paris at 11 in the morning.

He was right on time. The new client had put on sunglasses, and such childishness got a smile out of THOMPSON. The new client placed a photo face down on the table.

It’s going to be a mite tricky. It will have to look as if … I’ll explain it all.

What’s wrong? You feeling sick?

I’m fine, I’m fine.

Is this what troubles

you?Not at

all!

It was his stomach that troubled him. It had started acting up again. And the pain was back.

3.

On the lawn, a young man was relieving himself into a molehill. He had knelt down to improve his stream’s accuracy and care-fully aimed his piss squarely into the hole dug by the mole.

Are you throwing gravel on the car,

Guillaume?

Why the hell are you doing that? Are you trying to

wreck it?

4.

Why don’t you make him stop throwing pebbles?

Self-discipline. You wouldn’t understand.

Stupid cunt! Piss off!

Dédé, stay with the car. Stop them from

throwing stuff! Smack them around if you

have to!

Michael HARTOG. I’m expected. Appointment with Doctor

ROSENFELD.Indeed.

Follow me.

Delighted to see you.

Is the girl ready?She’ll be here right away. I’ll inform her at

once.

Mr. HARTOG is here. Have Miss

BALLANGER come right away. With her suitcase.

5.

I’ll write you a check. A dona-tion… A donation for your

institute…

Very well, if you wish. It isn’t necessary.

It’s interesting, what you do here.

You mean, antipsychiatry?

I mean, minding crazy people.

This is quite a lot.

Not to me it isn’t`. Where’s

the girl?

KNOCK!

KNOCK! Come in!

Michael HARTOG.

Julie BALLANGER.

We can chat in the car, if you will. Let’s go!

What? Now?

You could take a stroll on the grounds. Just long enough to get acquainted. It’s no wonder Julie is distressed at the idea of leaving us forever. After all, she’s been living here for five years. If you were her, you would be in a panic too.

Don’t bet on it!

“I could have hot drinks brought out to you by the pond,” Rosenfeld insisted, his voice trailing off…

6.

Julie was admiring the car. It felt like sailing on a yacht.

The interior was upholstered in real leather and mahogany. There were all kinds of built-in compartments in the backs of the front seats. Julie caressed the handles set into the leather.

The passengers were as cozy in here as in a sleeping car.

“Look here,” said HARTOG. He opened the drawers, Julie got a glimpse of a bar, a radio-telephone, a tiny television, and a miniature Stenotype keyboard.

It’s no magic car. Matter of fact, it was made by people,

you know.

Well, all the same, I’m impressed. I’m only a poor girl.

Julie fumbled with the magnetic latches. Her fingers popped open a new compartment. It’s just for self-defense.

Sorry, I’m no crime kingpin.

But you’re a soap kingpin.

You didn’t picture me like this.

Certainly not. I imagined a polite, elderly man.

That’s ’cause of my reputation for being a do-gooder. Everyone thinks I’m a doddering old fart. Julie, would you like a drink?

I’m not allowed to…

The hell you aren’t. Dédé! Join us in a drink?

Sure I will!

7.

What do you think of me? Or know about me? Do you get the feeling

you’re living a fairy tale? I don’t believe in fairy tales.

Okay. So what, then?

You are a soap, oil, and washing powder kingpin. You are very rich and a

philanthropist. Don’t lay it on too thick.

You do Good. You are probably trying to atone for some notion you have of being undeserving. Because you didn’t earn your fortune through

your own efforts. It’s your brother’s and his wife’s deaths that got you all your money. So, you

probably developed a power ful feeling of guilt, if you ever wished they’d die. One always wishes

for the death of one’s own brother, in some way.

Jolly good! Is that what they taught you at

the asylum?

It’s not an asylum. It’s a free institution. I could

leave whenever I wanted.

But you stayed in for five years. Why?

You’ve gone over my file. You know why.

You won’t recognize much. A lot of building has gone on in the last five years.

Are you interested in architecture?Not particularly. But I

know that you designed the HARTOG Foundation.


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