I remember when I started dabbing. It was around a year ago. I was playing cs go with my friends and after a particularly exciting match I did it. I lost my dab virginity. I simply had to do it. The joy had overflown my whole body and the need to express it was too much. It was such a cathartic move. After that, I started doing it regularly.

In fact, I dabbed all the time. I managed to get a promotion at work and dabbed at my boss. He was a bit surprised, but managed to brush it off as a harmless quirk. Oh God, was he wrong. I did very well at work. In fact, I was achieving so much I had to dab all the time out of pride. It didn’t sit well with some of my co-workers. After a few reprimands, I got fired. I dabbed at everyone when I was leaving my workplace the final time.

My wife had no issues with it for a while. She saw it as funny. Then, just after I had been fired, a tragedy struck us. Her mother died. I managed to keep myself from dabbing for a few days but it all changed during her funeral. After my lovely wife had delivered her speech, I was so proud I had to do it. I dabbed. It caused an uproar. After a few weeks I was served with divorce papers.

With my parents long gone, I had nowhere to go. I hit the streets. By that time my dabbing problem had become severe. It was my way of expressing any kind of emotion. When I was happy, it was an upwards dab, when sad – downwards. It’s like that now as well. I live a life of a lowly beggar, sitting on the streets, pleading for money. Every time someone drops a penny into my cup, I dab of happiness. This has brought me a name among the locals – Mr. Dabbington. I like it. And I love dabbing.