Disclaimer: Good Omens and all the wonderful beings within do not belong to me. They belong to Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman, or vice versa... depends on which version of the cover you're looking at. No profit is being made, alas, I'm just having fun.

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A/N: I'm sure you know by now that I am in love with Anathema and Newt. Love love love them, but the fandom darlings are always the superhumans. So I'm showing them a little love here. Anyway, this drabble was written out of pure self-amusement; I personally found it hilarious. I don't know what you'll think, though-- let me know in a review! :D Thanks for checking out the drabbles.

A/N again: This is the thirteenth drabble in my collection. Talk about ineffable plans! :D

Newt stared at the bedraggled lump in Anathema’s arms.

“What is it?” he asked.

“A cat,” Anathema replied matter-of-factly.

“A black cat,” Newt remarked.

“Entirely black,” Anathema added.

“And you’re a witch,” Newt continued.

“In a manner of speaking, yes.”

The cat yowled and leapt out of Anathema’s arms. Newt watched it cross their paths.

“I think we’re in for some bad luck,” he said conversationally.

There was another yowl, and then the sound of the bathroom mirror falling off the wall and breaking into a hundred pieces.

“Seven years of it,” Anathema agreed, and went to fetch a broom.