Tutoring
"See, if you reconfigure the splobeegor transponder so that the output is equal to the coefficient of the trans-linear—Are you listening?" Zim pouted, agitated at having to interrupt himself.
The head of his "student" shot up from the utility desk, jolted awake. "Huh-what-heh-oh…Right…yeah, I get it, Zim." He moved a hand under his glasses to rub at a bleary, bloodshot eye.
"Do you?" Zim returned to the large touch screen and effortlessly drew out an absurdly complex equation with his stylus. "Then perhaps you could tell me what 'x' is?"
"Uhhh…89y5?" Dib propped his head up on one hand.
"No, this 'x', stupid pig-stink," the Irken rapped at one of the equation's variables.
"They're different numbers?" Dib was confused. "Then why aren't they different letters? How am I supposed to solve the equation if a single variable can stand for more than one number?"
Zim rolled his eyes as if it were obvious. "Any scientist worth his ketchup would know, Dib. Typical hyooman."
The boy yawned. "The phrase is 'worth his salt', Zim."
"What does it matter? A filthy Earth food condiment is a filthy Earth food condiment. They all go on filthy Earth food."
Dib tiredly pointed to a diagram on the upper half of the screen. "Why are we even on the subject of splobeegor transponders? That's Irken equipment. The university's not going to be teaching about that."
"That's the problem with your primitive human universities," Zim waved his hands—and by extension, the stylus he was holding—in annoyance. "Now in the Irken educational system, you'd have learned this stuff in our equivalent of your—kinfolk-garage."
Eyelids beginning to droop again, Dib did not feel up to the task of correcting his tutor on the word "kindergarten".
"I don't even know why I'm teaching you all of this," the alien complained.
"To prove your 'mental superiority' to me, remember?"
"Of course I remember!" Zim snapped. "I meant that with the painfully low standards of your Earth colleges, you could gain admission without learning this."
By force of habit, Dib initially took offense to the Zim's insult towards his people's educational institutions, but before he could retort, he began to take the alien's words a different way. "Are…Are you saying I'm smart?"
Zim, looking surprised at first, sneered at his nemesis and chose his words carefully. "For a human. Now as I stated in the previous lesson, the module's key components are the convex garblogish lenses in Figure A and—"
"Okay, great, Zim, but it's midnight. I gotta get some sleep."
"Again?" Zim exclaimed in irritation at the human. "You just did that last night!"