What Finally Happened to Monkey King

Great Buddha looked at Monkey and said, “You say that you are a good jumper. If you can jump out of the palm of my hand in one somersault, I shall let you rule Heaven. But if you fail, you must accept my punishment. Do you agree?”

Monkey could hardly believe his ears. “I just told him I could jump one hundred and eight thousand leagues!” he said to himself. “Perhaps great Buddha is hard of hearing. He must be foolish to make such a bet with me.”

“Is this an honest deal?” Monkey asked 
out loud.

“Oh yes, we have many witnesses here,” returned great Buddha with a smile. “Do you agree?”

“Of course I agree.” Monkey shook with laughter.

Calmly, great Buddha held out his hand. Monkey climbed into his palm. He stretched his legs and arms and wiggled all of his fingers and toes. Then, just as he had done so many years ago at the great waterfall, he crouched down, closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and leaped with all his might.

After a long moment he landed on his feet, quite certain he had gone at least one hundred and eight thousand leagues away from where he had started. Looking around, he saw an unfamiliar landscape, a boundless flat plain with five pillars soaring straight into the sky. Monkey walked around, looking for landmarks, but he couldn’t find anything to tell him where he was.

“Hmm!” he said. “I must have jumped even farther than I thought! I guess this must be the very end of the world. But I suppose it would be a good idea to make a mark to show how far I came.”

Monkey plucked a hair from his chest and cried, “Alalalatola!” The hair became a paintbrush. Monkey approached the pillar in the center and wrote Magnificent Monkey King was here. He thought for a second, then he urinated on the bottom of the pillar, grinning at his little trick.

Certain that he had won his bet with great Buddha, Monkey cloud-soared back to Heaven.

He jumped off the cloud and found he was standing again in great Buddha’s hand. Monkey looked up in triumph. “All right, where is my throne?”

“Silly Monkey,” great Buddha said with a laugh. “You never left my palm.”

“I knew you wouldn’t believe me.” Monkey grinned. “That’s why I left my mark on one of the pillars at the end of the world.”

“Ah, really?” Great Buddha couldn’t stop smiling. “Look down.”

Monkey looked down. At the base of one of great Buddha’s fingers he saw his own handwriting. Magnificent Monkey King was here. Beneath it was a small puddle.

“It’s—it’s impossible!” Monkey sputtered. “I was at the end of the world. It must be a trick! Let me try again.” He crouched down and was just about to make another jump, but great Buddha quickly flipped his hand over and trapped Monkey in his grip. He then transformed his five fingers into a mountain range with five snow-capped ridges.

“To tell you the truth, Monkey,” great Buddha said, “you will never be able to jump out of my hand, because my hand can expand without limit. My hand is everywhere—you just don’t see it. Monkey, your mischief is done. You must stay here under this mountain until you learn to use your power wisely and usefully.”

“Will I ever get out?” Monkey cried. He knew that this time he was truly trapped.

“This is up to you,” said great Buddha. “When you have learned from your mistakes, I will release you. You have my word. And I promise I’ll visit you in five hundred years to see what you have discovered.”

“Five hundred years!” Monkey wailed from beneath the mountain.

But no one answered.

Monkey sighed, then lay back with his head resting on a rock. He closed his eyes. After a few moments he broke into a grin.

“After all, five hundred years . . . that’s not so much!” He tapped his chin thoughtfully. “It should give me just enough time to make a new plan!” And Monkey began to laugh.