Furniture Makeover: A Tale of Old Clothes and Quick Fixes

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Why was he staring at me like that? I didn't like it...
I shifted my seat on the deflated couch, trying to turn my gaze away. Frowning, I began typing once more. I didn't get very far before I felt his gaze dig holes in the side of my head. I glanced once again in his direction, his stance solid, determined.
I grumbled. "What do you want?"
He said nothing, just stood there in his stupid green outfit that did him little justice. It was an outfit he'd gotten in the ninties, and it showed.
"I'm...