Photos & Prose 2026 Flatland

Jevin Renegade Host

Chicken Man
Over the Rainbow

Jim walking the Dog

Going for the Juggler!

Peter after Dog Attack

Yummmmm

Top Spinning on Chad's Tongue

Mixing in Da Bomb!

Peter & Jevin 'Cascading' Dab Bomb!

Zanders on theTiny Desk

Kelsy and Chad Chugga Rola Bola

Beau Kelsy Peter Charles

2026 Flatland
Beau's Prose

‘Twas the night before Flatland,
And throughout the Midwest,
There were whispers amongst jugglers,
About our small fest.

When you put on an event,
There's nowhere more cool,
Than to host it within,
An LPS middle school.

We brought back our Twizzlers,
They lay in our bucket,
Other festivals don't have them,
So they can all suck it.

Chad and Jim volunteered,
To go through Rick's hoard,
For all their hard work,
They deserve an award.

We had a million tops,
Spread over our tables,
We wore out three pens,
Just writing their labels.

There was such a huge raffle,
Of stuff we needed gone,
The raffle was so big,
That it's still going on.

We sold our new shirts,
Just inside the door,
Omaha sold their shirts,
For five dollars more.

Bill Sewell and Bill Feay,
Took their glow props outside,
As the lightning storm started,
They nearly got fried.

Shaun put up his drone,
It flew above our heads,
As we repeatedly failed,
At doing tank treads.

Then we hosted the games,
What could possibly go wrong?
But we didn't plan anything,
It went on for too long.

Quarters and endurance,
And long distance passes,
It's clear that this lineup,
Came straight from our asses.

We hosted with vigor,
We wanted to show flattery,
But the mic the school gave us,
Had 0% battery.

I loved Diabolo Toss,
I'm the game's biggest fan,
Because I think that prop,
Should go in the trash can.

Jim aimed his diabolo,
With expert precision,
To compete against him,
Is an idiot's decision.

We dug through our pockets,
Like a bunch of sad hoarders,
After 20 years of juggling,
I finally won Quarters.

But Omaha came away,
With the most winners and advancers,
I suspect they are taking,
Performance enhancers.

Then the public show started,
The poultry man did some tricks,
I hope that next year,
He brings a hot chick.

Our very special guest,
Was the talented Mark Hayward,
The person who kept,
Our show from going wayward.

He brought out a top,
So big it's called Chubby,
If it had gone astray,
It would have been bloody.

Later at renegade,
And no one had regrets,
Chad smoked so much meat,
That the room had the sweats.

We had hot sauce that's deadly,
Of that, there's no doubt.
It burns going in,
And it burns comin' out.

And we sat oh so close,
Like we were crammed in a tent,
If it were 2020,
It'd be a superspreader event.

This year we paid tribute,
To our dear late friend Rick,
He'd love to have been here,
To do one more cool trick.

So treasure those tops,
You've been watching and winning,
Rick's still here with us,
As long as they're spinning.

Well, thanks all the jugglers,
For another great year,
It's now time for Jevin,
To shotgun a beer.
2025 Renegade Prose

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