open to doubt or suspicion

So I was walking down the street, minding my own business, not doing anything dubious whatsoever, when a man with a dubious look on his face approached me. I saw his hand dubiously pull something out of his coat pocket, something hard and cold and dubious, when he said in a dubious voice, "Give me your wallet."

I was stunned. I'd heard of these dubious sorts(or 'dubes' as I call them), but had never had such a dubious encounter before. And now, here I was, on a semi-dubious corner, a dubious gun pointed at me, a dubious finger on an even more dubious trigger, and this dube's face just staring at me in a half-dubious smile. I almost dubed myself.

But then a miracle! A not-dubious-at-all policeman must have seen the dube, because now he was behind the dube, his barely dubious police-issued gun pointed at that damned dubious back. I couldn't help cracking my least dubious smirk, and I could tell in his dubious eyes that the dube knew what was up. The obviously un-dubious cop told the dube to drop his dubious gun, which he did, in a quite dubious manner, I must admit. Soon enough, his dubious wrists were encircled in hardly dubious handcuffs, and I was escorted to my never-dubious house.

If there's anything I learned, it's always be on the lookout for dubes. They can dubiously appear on any dubious alley or sidewalk. I've also begun to practice my dubious face in my bathroom mirror, because, as I've heard dubious, i mean numerous times, the best defense is a dubious offense.