J'accuse...! Emile Zola of Being Pretty Awesome!

Stinky's tired, so he's gonna let someone else do all the heavy lifting this time.

Here's another pretty good writer called Emile Zola. Stinky was impressed with these passages from Therese Raquin, published in 1867. Lazy horndog Laurent croaks his lover's husband by tossing him in the Seine. Then Laurent visits the Paris Morgue for several weeks, hoping to identify the discovered corpse:

        One morning, he was seized with real terror. For some moments, he had been looking 
          at a corpse, taken from the water, that was small in build  and  atrociously  disfigured.
          The flesh of  the  drowned  person  was so  soft and  broken-up that  the running water 
          washing it, carried it away bit by bit. The jet falling on the face bored a hole to the left
          of the nose. And abruptly, the nose became flat,  the  lips  were  detached, showing the
          white teeth. The head of the drowning man burst out laughing. 

Several days later, Laurent sees Camille, the man he murdered:

        Camille was hideous. He had been a fortnight in the water. His face still appeared firm
          and rigid; the features were preserved, but the skin had taken a  yellowish,  muddy tint.
          The thin, bony, and slightly tumefied head wore a  grimace. It was a  trifle  inclined on
          one side, with the hair  sticking to the  temples, and the  lids raised, displaying the dull
          globes of  the eyes. The  twisted lips  were drawn to  a corner of the mouth in an atro-
          cious grin; and a piece of blackish tongue appeared between the white teeth. This head,
          which looked tan and drawn out  lengthwise,  while  preserving  a  human  appearance,
          had remained all the more frightful with pain and terror.

But wait, there's more:

         The body seemed a mass of ruptured flesh; it had suffered horribly. You could feel that
          the arms no longer held to their sockets; and the clavicles were piercing the skin of the
          shoulders. The ribs formed black bands on the greenish chest; the left side, ripped open,
          was gaping amidst dark red shreds. All the torso was in a state of putrefaction. The ex-
          tended legs, although firmer, were daubed with dirty patches. The feet dangled down.

Imagine opening up whatever people used for Kindles back then, and reading this!

And please don't tell Stinky's mom he is reading this. She is overly-protective after Stinky was diagnosed with something called "walking night-terrors", and she considers Stinky enough of a danger when he is awake.

Reasonable facsimile of Emile Zola.