CerealBoxInk

Description: A stadium full of Santa, elves and a snowman with a pretzel, all in sunglasses. Kickoff is cocoa.

Description: A laughing Santa with a stack of gifts, under a gold-trimmed arch. Sing it if you want.

Description: One tired Santa, one candy cane, and a speech bubble that says it all. He's seen things.

Description: Collegiate lettering, a gold sleigh full of gifts, a pun that does the work. Varsity style, Christmas schedule.

Description: Plaid, leopard, stripes and polka dots, all arguing over one word. Retro script Christmas underneath.

Description: He checked his list twice, then upgraded his weapons systems. Be good, seriously.

Description: Pixel Santa on a 16-bit cartridge, shipping gifts like a final boss. The loot drop is the whole point.

Description: A melted snowman in a top hat, calling it a meltdown. Fine, he says.

Description: The head fell off and the arms are up. Everything is fine, apparently.

Description: Holiday hospitality from someone whose cousin parked an RV in the driveway three weeks ago. The offer is sincere, mostly.

Description: He's not mad. He's disappointed, and he has it all written down.

Description: A raccoon in shades, a Santa hat and one very long string of Christmas lights. He has accepted it.

Description: The tree through the roof, the wagon in the drive, the lights still blazing. Griswold Family Christmas '89, no notes.

Description: One smug cat, one dog who already ate his candy cane, and the Sunday funnies holiday card you actually wanted.

Description: Most gingerbread men spend December on a tray. This one spent it under a barbell.

Description: Thirty floors, one Santa hat, and an office party nobody forgets. Yes, it's a Christmas movie.

Description: Loyalty, but make it a snow monster and a guy with an ice pick. Thumbs up, mountain optional.

Description: He doesn't come down the chimney. He comes through the roof, and then most of downtown.

Description: A smug snowman with a pipe and a scarf, built for holiday gatherings you have already decided to survive. Icy letters, flat expression.

Description: Star on top, lights all the way down the tail, present in the tiny arms. Best tree on the block.

Description: Aviators on, walnut in hand, thumbs up. The coolest guy on the mantel says hi.

Description: The tree is down, the lights are wrapped around him, and the cat has no comment. A cranky tabby for everyone who treats December as a personal attack.

Description: The nervous kid in the glasses called it. This shirt says so in orange and blue.

Description: One swordsman, one sunrise, zero progress. For anyone still trying to get back to the cartoon block.

Description: One katana, one cracked sun, one firm refusal. Wear it when the day tries something.

Description: A Santa-suited pitcher crashing through a brick wall, because the front door was too polite. Loud, red, and holly-trimmed.

Description: An official-looking badge with one job. Grill dads, hardware aisle regulars, and anyone who can quote the line already know.

Description: Two hands on the face, one sunset behind him, zero energy left. It says what you were about to say anyway.

Description: For anyone whose back gave out doing something they would rather not describe. Ice pack included, dignity sold separately.

Description: Santa, a red mug and one quiet minute of steam. Holly and a bow underneath.

Description: It's in the cup, it's in the vibe, it's basically who you are from November through New Year's.

Description: Santa strokes his beard, considers your request, and goes with no. Icicle lettering and a squint that means it.

Description: A lump of coal in a Santa hat with its fists up. Consider yourself warned.

Description: The elf has not slept since October, and management says he is doing great. A Christmas tee for whoever is carrying the office on caffeine and spite.

Description: A wired paper cup in a Christmas scarf sprints through the season on pure caffeine. Loud lettering, rubber-hose style.

Description: No trophy required. Winning the reindeer games this year is a purely self-appointed title.