Mr. Herkabe: Who's Dabney?
Dabney: Me, sir. I took the liberty of ordering you a decaf soy latte.
Mr. Herkabe: Let me guess. Emotionally needy. Closet bed-wetter. You get no affection at home so you'll be seeking it from me. Look elsewhere, son. Who's the anal-retentive outsider [many hands go up]... with repressed matricidal tendencies?
Kevin: That one's from me, sir. Please, stop.
Mr. Herkabe: As you may or may not know I was once one of you, a Krelboyne. And I'm sure I would have made the same lame attempt to ingratiate myself to the new soft-headed thick-wit teaching my class. Oh, yes, I've been there. I've been coddled and preened. "Oh, you're a genius." "You can do anything you set your mind to. It must be so easy being you." Well, bull! [all gasp] All that gets you is an ex-wife and 14 million dollars in debt. Now, I refuse to let you fall into the trap society has set for you. Playtime is over, children! You've had a free ride so far. It's about time somebody motivated you, challenged you, tested your mental limits! Granted, I don't have a teaching certificate from a two-year community college like most of the people I was forced to say hello to this morning in the teachers lounge, but I'm just going to muddle through with my double doctorate from Harvard.
Lloyd: This is a test!
Mr. Herkabe: Correct. You have 20 minutes.
Dabney: There are six essay questions.
Mr. Herkabe: I'm sorry, I thought this was the gifted class. Begin!