Yes, this is my first fic. Yes, the whole thing is a monologue by Jimmy. No, Jimmy Neutron is not mine. (Much to my chagrin, let me assure you.)
Goddard! Goddard, wake up, boy. C'mon, there's a good dog.
Dictation and recording mode, please, Goddard, and translate my speech into text, too, just in case. What? No, in English, please, not binary. Thanks, boy.
October sixth. Unpublished message number nine-eighty.
I'm getting a bit sick of it. The looks, the whispers, the 'moments'…it's time to clear something up, even if the only person who's going to hear it is Goddard. Even if I wish I could say it to everyone.
It gets tiresome having to repeat myself.
Please, please, please, for the love of Heisenberg's Principle, stop making assumptions about my feelings. I do not need my waking hours sullied any further by petty rumours, hear-say and catcalls about my...'relationship'...with Cindy Vortex. Especially when 89.38% of them are extraordinarily unlikely (give or take half a percent or so). Why? There are a multitude of reasons, but one stands head and shoulders above the rest. Let me be succinct:
I. DO. NOT. LOVE. CINDY.
If I was going to be in love with ANYONE (not that I am – I'm eleven! Eleven! I'm not even old enough to shave yet!) it would be Betty. Ah, Betty…she's the one with dark hair that shines in the sun, a perpetually friendly smile, green eyes that…wait, what? No, no, slip of the tongue. Nothing meant by it at all.
(Goddard, can you edit that bit out? …no? What do you mean, no? Oh, so that's what you think, huh? …fine. If you're going to be that way, fine. I'll just delete it manually once I'm done. Continue recording. Thank you.)
Anyway, that's just judging by appearances, which I fully admit is petty – but come on! Look, even though science is everything to me, (and I'm…a bit vertically challenged…) I AM still a male. Despite the rumours that I know spread behind my back. I still appreciate beauty, even though the logical segments of my mind scream at me to stop being such a fool! I don't know quite why I fall into a stupor every time Cin…I mean, Betty's around.
Well, okay, I DO know, but I still can't fight it. Everything else – the villains, the bullies, the times my inventions mess up things for the whole town– I can fight off, in one way or another. Everything else, I can zap with a hypno-beam, or blow up, or reason with, or run away from. But this…this reaction to her…I can't do a thing about it. It's uncontrollable. I can't baffle it with scientific understandings, I can't zap it or shrink it or blow it up or run away. And…it scares me.
Why do you think I invented the love pheromone? To create a vaccine, that's why! But the potion was too dangerous a weapon. (Can you imagine the destruction Professor Calamitous could wreak if he got his hands on it? Or King Goobot? Or Eustace, or Meldar, or Beautiful Gorgeous, or…well, okay, Beautiful probably doesn't need a love potion to start with. But still, you appreciate the extent of the problems that could be caused.) Once I realized the monstrous potential of my creation, I had to destroy it. (Well, most of it. You never know when I might need it.) Not only was that love potion an illogical idea in the first place (How did I think I was going to contain it?), it made me look like a grinning fool whenever she was around. Goddard showed me the footage, and it was…terrifying, to say the least.
And, relating this back to my original point, I know that it's pheromones that make me smile like an idiot when I smell her perfume.
It's pheromones that make me feel the need to prove myself to her, to better her in every competition we enter.
It's pheromones that make me want to save the world, just to make her be that little bit nicer to me.
It's nothing but pheromones, okay? Nothing but hormones. Nothing but chemical responses in my brain.
There is nothing but that, and…and there will never be anything more than that.
I don't love Cindy. I won't.
Aw, I don't even know why I'm saying all this, let alone why I'm recording it. I guess…I guess it feels good to say something and know nobody will hear me. (Nobody but you, of course, Goddard.) Why not Sheen, or Carl? Sheen and Carl are my best friends, but there are some things that they just can't understand, or won't. And added to that is the fact that they'd never let me live it down if they heard me talking like this. I can't talk to Cindy or Libby about this (for reasons that I hope are obvious), and the same reasoning goes for my parents. And aside from them…well, there isn't really anyone, aside from them.
I'll probably play this back in the future and scoff at myself. Heck, I'll probably delete this file the second I'm done recording it. But…still.
End recording, please.
Thanks for recording, boy. And sorry about waking you up in the middle of the night. I guess I couldn't sleep until I got that off my chest.
Heh. No, keep the file, just a bit longer. Triple-encrypt, though. Thanks.
Activate sleep mode, boy.