my reputations on the line

"But heyyyyyy." A sinister voice repeats, mockingly. "Hay is for horses." Slipping into his thoughts with all the grace and subtlety of an ice cube being dropped down the back of one's pants, the spirit soaks in the nature of the ascended's question. Rattling around mercilessly in his mind for a moment, it departs like the crack of a pistol shot (like those Adam no longer has. Aw, how sad). "Pleasant thoughts..." It cackles, streaking off into the darkness, leaving Adam to wonder what, if anything, just happened. Until the end of March, anytime Adam thinks about sex, his body hair will grow. If he has sex, his palms and hands will sprout hair that can't be cut.