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.”