Make her part of the furniture

Samson seized the woman's shoulder and pulled her back into the darkest corner of the club he could find. Then he grabbed the her wig and yanked backwards, pulling it away and revealing the long, soft brown hair beneath it. Looking into the now-terrified eyes of the woman it belonged to, he ripped away her bandanna. She was quite pretty. Her nose had character, her lips were plump, her eyes were pleading.

"What's your name?" he gruffly demanded.

"Mila!" she half-screamed in response.

"Mila, you were very rude just then. It's not polite to ignore people. In fact, only furniture should ignore people. Are you furniture?"

She clearly didn't understand his whole statement, but seemed to grasp the final question, "No!" she shouted.

"I don't know, maybe you'd be happier as a couch, or maybe an end table."

"No, please," the distraught woman began to sob.

She sunk to her knees and grabbed at Samson's hands, but he was too far gone to care. In a flicker of his eyes, Mila's clothes, such as they were, dissolved off of her body. Samson admired her fantastic figure as she scrambled away.

"Ok, now freeze," he said to no one in particular.

Mila froze reaching for the wall. Without even having to think about it, Samson caused a mirror to be brought into existence in front of her.

"Now, let's consider our options, hmm?" he said in a calm voice.

At a wave of Samson's hand, Mila's back arched like a bolt of electricity had passed through her. A moment later she relaxed but remained in an eccentric position.

"Perhaps you missed your calling as a chair?" Samson mocked, examining her perfect, frozen body.

"No," he decided, "you simply don't have enough junk in the trunk to make a suitable seat."

In rapid succession Samson experimented with making her into a footstool, a coffee table, and an exercise bike, but wasn't satisfied with any of them. Finally, he hit on a wonderful idea.

"I know!" he shouted, "You're the perfect height to be a coat rack."

A snap of his fingers **** Mila to stand and assume an awkward position, arms outstretched waiting for any passerby to rest his heavy outerwear on her frail limbs.

Satisfied, Samson felt the rage that had boiled up inside him cool. Moderately horrified at what had just transpired, he fled back to the party, leaving the frozen woman to her fate.