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Three days before the race and I was incredibly nervous as I stood with the other unhired racers in a row, hoping to be hired. My black rubber gas suit bore my pressure stat “425” in large proud white letters across my swollen belly as I stood with my hands behind my back. Problem was, so were my other eight competitors, six women and two men. Women had more natural adaptability for this than men did; among men, I was a minor celebrity. The crowds were still milling around as a young debutante—tight sweater, tight jeans--strolled up to me, all hips and lips and boobs.

Portia's Speech from the Merchant of Venice (Excerpt):

The quality of mercy is not strained.
It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven,
Upon the place beneath.
It is twice blessed.
It blesseth him that gives and him that takes.

We all do pray for mercy
And that same prayer doth teach us all to render the deeds of mercy.

--William Shakespeare