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Franzi Katzka

A cinematic kitchen scene blending nightmare and waking reality. On the left, a warped, dreamlike vision: a monstrous sourdough jar looms in fog, Mum and Felix partially fused into dough, and Schmutz perched above, haunting and flour-dusted. On the right, the kitchen returns to morning calm—clean counters, soft light, and the sourdough jar quietly in place. Two versions of Franzi appear: one dream-bound in the shadows, the other fully real, seated in serene control. Her tail is curled. Her gaze is steady. She has bent the world to her will.

Epilogue – The Ghost of the Dough

The nightmare comes first. I am in the kitchen, but it’s not right. It’s stretched impossibly long, the walls curling like soft dough, and the floor sticky beneath my paws. The air is thick with a sour, yeasty fog. And at the
April 5, 2025
Franzi is doing a research online, quick and dirty- sour dough is toxic for cats

The Sourdough Incident: Part 7 – The Silent Knowledge

I know before anyone else. The knowledge arrives in a quiet moment, a lazy internet search while Mum hums in the kitchen, lovingly feeding her sacred dough. The words are there, stark and straightforward: Sourdough is toxic for cats—the fermentation, the yeast,
April 4, 2025
A sleek black Oriental Shorthair cat sits in a glowing gothic-tech command room, framed by looming shadow claws. In front of her, a digital display reads "PLAYER NOT DETECTED."

Boomer Billionaires and the Cult of the Unasked Opinion

When Elon Musk called Assassin’s Creed: Shadows “terrible,” the internet exploded—not with insight, but with the sharp scent of ego fermentation. And if that wasn’t enough, let’s not forget the man once paid to buff his WoW performance. Yes, this is real
March 27, 2025
A sleek black Oriental Shorthair cat with glowing green eyes steps through a shimmering, glitching wall into a surreal corridor. The setting combines sacred cathedral architecture with futuristic circuitry and floating digital glyphs. The cat walks calmly, as if newly awakened from a dream.

Cathammer The ninth Protocoll-Chapter One:

The pawprint was still there. Smudged. Blinking. Maybe judging. As Felix’s eye throbbed with the ghost of Venomycin-D and unspoken guilt, the slate whispered: “You said I was too much. I made you just enough.” Somewhere deep beneath the basilica, a maintenance
March 26, 2025
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