THE RETURN OF KING MONKEY

Four years into the third millennium, and something happened.

Fortunately, for us at least, if not for all concerned, nobody was around to see it happen.

If nobody had been able to describe what happened, it would have gone something like this:

Some miles east of the Yangtse river, running through the heart of China, there is a small hill, leading up to...nothing in particular. Nobody had thought to give the hill a name, because nobody had really paid much attention to it before.

Trees grew on that hill, because trees need somewhere to grow, and a hill is as good a place as any. Some of the trees had a better view than others, and some even had birds nesting in their branches. But not today.

At the top of this unremarkable hillock was a slab of stone. The stone had been decorated with moss, lichen and guano by the passage of time, which if nothing else is an equal opportunities landlord. However, one thing about the slab appeared untouched by the two-be-four MDF of days...a wide ribbon of fine orange silk, which smelled vaguely of saffron, and bore the following legend, picked out in letters the colour of lotus blossom:

"HERE LIES THE GREAT SAGE, EQUAL OF HEAVEN. NOT DEAD: ONLY NAUGHTY."

As the sun rose over the slab that day, something very unexpected happened (or, at least, unexpected to anyone who has never read anything ever written anywhere ever, before). A nightingale, whose parents had escaped from captivity in Hong Kong some years before, flew up the hill, and landed atop the slab.

The nightingale scratched at the stone, hoping to find something edible amongst all the moss, and after a few moments, hopped across to the silk ribbon, and pecked at it.

In a flash, not to mention an explosion of bird parts, both the ribbon and the slab spontaneously erupted, showering the trees with pebbles (much to their annoyance), and leaving a deep, dark hole at the top of the hill.

For a moment, nothing happened. Noone seemed to hold their breath, and nobody creeped nervously towards the edge of the hole, to peer into the abyss. Which is just as well, because at that very moment, a great steam geyser blew out of the hole.

"I'm FREEEEE!"

As the geyser died down, a figure landed next to the hole, dressed in dirty, threadbare robes. He (for it was a he) stood about five feet high, and bandy-legged, as if he hadn't quite got the hang of standing up straight, yet. His hair, though caked in ancient mud, was black and scruffy, and was encircled by a grimy, yet softly gleaming golden band, fixed tight about his strong brow. His face, like his manner, was mischievous in cast, and his eyes darted about in their sockets, taking in all the sights and sounds around him like they were the first he had seen in a thousand years. Which is a coincidence. His name, his title and his species were all wrapped up in a single phrase, which he uttered...now.

"King Monkey is Free At Last!"

King Monkey dusted himself off as best he could, and walked around the hole, getting his bearings.

"Oh, it's good to breathe fresh air, again. That pit was getting rather musty, you know!"

King Monkey drew in a great breath, held it, puffed his chest out, and breathed out. He pulled and tugged at his robe, tutting at its raggedy hems and scuffed lining.

"Oh dear, oh dear," he said. "This just won't do. I'm the Great Sage, after all. Equal of Heaven. Guardian of the Great Vehicle Scriptures, and First Disciple of Tripitaka. But I look like a third-rate gibbon! I have to do something about that..."

King Monkey nodded his head with resolve, and reached inside his robe. Clutching at a patch of fur on his chest, he braced himself and yanked, hard. With a wince, the fur came free in his hand. King Monkey closed his eyes, intoned a quick prayer, and blew on the fur.

In a sparkle of simian sorcery, the fur became three bespoke monkey tailors, who quickly set about measuring their liege for a new set of robes. In moments, the chimp couturiers had finished their work, and with a flourish, King Monkey sent them back from whence they came.

Admiring his new red linen robes, King Monkey reflected on his incarceration.

"I wonder how long I was in that pit? Lord Buddha wouldn't have imprisoned me for nothing, and he wouldn't have let me out for nothing either. But why can't I remember why he put me there in the first place?"

King Monkey scuffed the ground in frustration.

"It's not fair! The last time Buddha did this to me, it was because of that bit of trouble, up in Heaven. But I paid for that already. Five hundred years under a mountain! Oh, why can't I remember?"

King Monkey bashed his head against a tree, which creaked and moaned in the wind.

"It's alright for you!" King Monkey said, to a beady little knot, halfway up the trunk. "You haven't been lying in the ground like a potato for...years and years. In fact, wasn't it your roots digging into my back? I should kick you in the acorns!"

King Monkey flopped to the ground, and sat there, scowling.

"I did my penance! I helped the Master fetch the Scriptures from India! I saved a lot of good people, and beat up a lot of bad ones. So why was I buried for so long?"

King Monkey sat up, an idea forming behind his very eyes.

"I'll go up to Heaven, and find out! Lord Buddha owes me that much, at least!"

King Monkey stood up, and looked as far East as he could remember.

"Oi, Buddha! King Monkey's back, and he needs a little word with you!"

King Monkey then took another deep, deep breath, held it, and blew out, as hard as he could. As he did so, he recited another little prayer (in his head), flashed his fingers in front of his face three times, and cast a new spell.

From out of nowhere came the single ring of a bell, and a magic pink cloud about the size of a go-kart flew down, out of the sky. The cloud danced around King Monkey's feet like a puppy welcoming its master home. King Monkey patted the cloud for a moment, apparently hushing a voice that only he could hear.

"Yes, yes, calm down. I'm happy to see you too, alright? Now, let's get going!"

King Monkey made to step on the cloud, then stopped, as if suddenly remembering something. He reached behind his ear, and brought out a small black matchstick. Bringing it up to his face, he studied it closely for a moment, before finally recognizing it. Closing his palm around the matchstick, King Monkey held it out in front of him, and invoking a third prayer, whipped his arm three times. By the third stroke, the stick had magically grown into a sturdy obsidian staff, upon which the legend "THE MAGIC WISHING STAFF, WHICH STIRRED THE MILKY WAY" could be read.

Whirling the staff about his head like a majorette, King Monkey laughed joyously, and leapt onto his cloud.

"Right! I'm ready now! Put the kettle on, Lord Buddha! I'm coming home!"

With a gentle prod of the staff, King Monkey spurred his cloud into flight. He circled the hill a couple of times, to reacquaint himself with the basics of cloud-control, and laughing all the way, shot off like a rocket into the bright blue sky...

...before hitting an aeroplane, a few seconds later.

The Return of King Monkey (C) Matthew Craig
Monkey, Tripitaka, and the Monkey legend are, I think, in the public domain, and not subject to copyright.
Arthur Waley's translation of Wu Ch'eng-en's original Monkey saga is a truly superb read.
If you don't want to read the book, why not watch the television series?

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