Wu Cheng-en - Journey to the West (vol. 1)

This bird was neither too big nor too small, and would have weighed only two or three ounces. Its beak was copper-red, its legs were iron-black, and it came flying down with a swish of its wings.

When it pecked at the lip of Pig, who was sleeping with his head down, the idiot scrambled to his feet and shouted, “A monster, a monster! It jabbed me with its spear. My mouth's hurting terribly.” As he felt it with his hand he made the blood flow.

“Dammit,” he said, “nothing especially good has happened to me, so what's this lucky red doing on my lips?” At the sight of his bloody hand he started to look wildly about himself, muttering on the while, and when he saw nothing he said, “There's no monster here, so how did I get jabbed?” Then he looked up and saw a woodpecker flying above him.

“The wretch,” he said, gnashing his teeth, “it's bad enough being put upon by Monkey, but now you're getting at me. I suppose you didn't realize I was human and thought my snout was a black, rotten old tree full of insects. You pecked me to find yourself some. I'll have to tuck my snout into my clothes.” With that the idiot went back to sleep.

Monkey flew down again and pecked him behind the ear, at which the idiot leapt up again and said, “This damned bird is really going for me. It must have a nest full of eggs or chicks here and be attacking me to stop me taking it. Very well then, I won't sleep here.” He picked up his rake and left the red grassy slope to continue on his way.

Monkey, beside himself with delight, thought, “Even with his eyes wide open the blockhead can't recognize one of his own people.”

With a shake the splendid Great Sage turned himself back into a tiny insect and perched himself behind Pig's ear. Another mile or so deeper into the mountains there were three square granite boulders the size of tables in a hollow. Pig put down his rake and chanted a “re-e-er” to them.

“The idiot,” grinned Monkey to himself, “those boulders aren't human. They can't talk or return his greeting. He's wasting his time being polite to them.” In fact the idiot was pretending that they were Sanzang, Friar Sand and Monkey, and practicing his speech to them.

“When I go back,” he said, “if the master asks me about monsters, I'll say that there are some here. When he asks what sort of mountain this is he'll think I'm talking nonsense if I say it's made of mud or earth or tin or copper or flour or paper or simply painted. I'll say it's a mountain made of rock, and if he asks about the caves I'll say there is a stone cave. What about the gates? I'll say they're iron-plated and studded. When he asks how deep the cave is I'll say it has three sections, one behind another. If he really interrogates me and wants to know how many studs there are in the gates I'll say I was too excited to notice. Now I've got my story off pat I'll be able to make a fool of Monkey.”

His story now concocted, he headed back along the path, dragging his rake behind him, little knowing that Monkey had heard everything behind his ear and flown off ahead when he started back. Monkey resumed his real form to see his master, who said, “Ah, here you are. Why hasn't Pig come back?”

“He's still cooking up his story,” said Monkey, “he'll be here soon.”

“How could that stupid fool, whose ears cover his eyes, ever make up a story?” said Sanzang. “You must be the one who is lying.”

“You're covering up for him, master,” replied Monkey. “I heard it all from his own mouth.” He told Sanzang how Pig had been sleeping in the grass when he was woken up with a woodpeckers' peck, how he had expressed his homage to the boulders, and how he had concocted a story about the mountains being made of rock with a stone cave that had iron-plated gates and monsters living in it. It was not long before the idiot approached. He was going through his story again, his head bowed low, to make sure that he did not forget it when Monkey shouted, “Hey, idiot, what are you reciting?”

Pig pricked up his ears, looked around, and said, “I'm back.”

He fell to his knees and was picked up by Sanzang, who said, “You look exhausted, disciple.”

“I am,” replied Pig. “With all that walking and climbing I'm completely whacked.”

“Are there monsters?” Sanzang asked.

“Yes,” said Pig, “there certainly are. There's a whole pile of them.”

“What sort of send-off did they give you?”

“They called me Ancestor Pig and Grandfather Pig, gave me noodle soup and vegetarian dishes, talked to me, and sent me back over the mountain with drums and banners,” Pig replied.

“This must be some dream you had while you were asleep in the grass,” said Monkey, so frightening the idiot that he shrank two inches.

“Lord Monkey,” he said, “however did you know I had a sleep?”

Monkey went up to him, grabbed hold of him, and said, “Come here, I've something to ask you.”

“Ask me if you must,” said the idiot, now shaking with fright, “but why do you have to grab me like that?”

“What sort of mountain was it?” asked Monkey.

“A mountain of rock,” replied Pig.

“What sort of cave?”

“Stone.”

“What sort of gates?”

“Iron-plated.”

“How deep?”

“There were three sections.”

“No need to say more,” said Monkey, “I remember the rest. I'll say it all for you to make sure that the master believes it.”

“Cheek!” said Pig. “You've not been there, so you can't possibly know what to say for me.”

“'If he wants to know how many studs there are in the gates I'll say I was too excited to notice.' Isn't that right?” said Monkey. The panic-stricken idiot fell to his knees again as Monkey continued, “You chanted homage to those boulders and talked to them as if they were us three, didn't you? Then you said, 'Now I've got this story off pat I'll be able to make a fool of Monkey,' didn't you?”

“Brother,” pleaded the idiot, now kowtowing desperately, “you couldn't have heard all that while I was patrolling the mountains.”

“I'll get you, you chaff-guzzling moron,” said Monkey, “sleeping when you'd been told to patrol the mountains. If the woodpecker hadn't pecked you awake you'd still be asleep now. When you'd been woken up you concocted this pack of lies that might have ruined our whole journey. Stretch your ankle out and I'll give you five strokes of my cudgel to teach you a lesson.”

“A mere touch from that murderous cudgel,” said Pig, “would break my skin, and the feel of it would crack my sinews. Five blows would kill me.”

“If you didn't want to be beaten,” said Monkey, “why did you lie?”

“I only did it once,” said Pig, “and I'll never do it again.”

“As it was only once I'll give you three.”

“My lord,” said Pig, “half a blow would be the death of me.” The idiot's only recourse was to cling to Sanzang and beg him to put in a good word for him.

“When Monkey told me you were concocting lies,” said Sanzang, “I did not believe him, yet now you clearly deserve a beating. But as there are so few of you to serve me as we cross these mountains, you had better let him off, Monkey, until we are on the other side.”

“As the old saw goes,” said Monkey, “'to obey parental instructions is great filial piety.' As the master tells me not to beat you I'll let you off. Go and reconnoiter again. I'll show you no mercy if you lie or mess things up this time.”

The idiot rose to his feet and went off again. As he hurried along the path he suspected at every step that Monkey was following in some form or other, so he thought everything he saw might be Monkey. When after two or three miles a tiger came bounding up from the mountainside he raised his rake and said, “Come to see whether I'm lying, brother? This time I'm not.”