Start writing a novel about your childhood

You sit yourself down with pad and paper, and begin to write.

"It was a dark and stormy night."

Or was it?  Of the night of your birth, you were just a little baby.  You can't be expected to remember these kinds of details.  No matter -- artistic licence.

"It was a dark and stormy night.  A child came into the world, screaming."

Uh oh.

Here it comes again.  Just seeing the word "screaming" is enough to send you into a screaming fit again.  Only now, of course, you're all screamed out -- your mouth is open, air rushing out of your lungs, and there's no sound whatsoever.

Neighbourhood dogs start barking.  That's it!  You've been screaming at so high a pitch, you're no longer audible by humans.

Gosh, this is fun!

You keep screaming in some unknown register.  Forget the novel -- let's go drive some dogs nuts!

You get up, head out the kitchen door, and into the great, wide world.  Where should you begin to torture dogs with your screams?

The End

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