Denial:  “I don’t really have to dress up, right?”

Anger:  “Why do I have to have such creative friends?  Human ouija boards?  Slutty Eeyore?  1920s-era gender-switched versions of Star Wars characters?  Do they seriously think I’m going to spend weeks making my costume?”

Bargaining:  *rifling through closets* “If I wear that old Christmas sweater with the gypsy skirt and beret, would that constitute a costume?”

Regret:  “Why didn’t I just get the devil horns?  Devil horns go with everything.  If I put devil horns together with a suit, I could go as Congress…”

Acceptance:  “So, the witch hat it is again.”