Serial Killer — twice — once I was box of cereal carrying a knife and gun, trailing red-spattered stuffed dolls and animals.
Once I was the “victim” and my date was the killer — box of cereal with assorted knives and ropes and much red gore.
Two advantages: I “got” to wear a body-hiding box and it really PO’d the nouveau feminists in Palo Alto who solemnly explained to me that violence against women wasn’t funny. When I was the victim, they tried to rescue me from my date.
NB, I’m as sincerely radical as the next woman — I’m just not completely humor impaired. :-)