The plague of frogs rose out of the Nile, and the sages wondered: how does a single verse describe it in the singular? And the frog came up and covered the land of Egypt (Exodus 8:6). One frog? Covering a whole kingdom?
Rabbi Elazar read it plainly. "There was but one frog," he said, "and she multiplied until the land swarmed." Rabbi Akiva pushed further. "Yes, one frog — but she herself was so vast that her body alone filled the whole land of Egypt."
That was too much for Rabbi Elazar ben Azariah. "Akiva," he shot back, "what business have you with Haggadah? Take your legends and go back to the laws of plagues and tents, where you belong. And yet — you are right that there was only one frog. She croaked so loud that every other frog in the world came running, and from her voice the plague grew."
Here is a quarrel between Torah giants preserved in Sanhedrin 67b, and the last word is a compromise: the plague began with a single living thing whose voice summoned the rest. One call, and the world answered.
A single voice in the right moment can flood a kingdom.