索打山神 Demanding to Thrash the Gods
行者跳將起來,抖抖土,束束裙,耳後掣出棒來,叫山神、土地:「都伸過孤拐來,每人先打兩下,與老孫散散悶。」眾神大驚道:「剛才大聖已吩咐,恕我等之罪,怎麼出來就變了言語要打?」行者道:「好土地,好山神,你道不怕老孫,卻怕妖怪?」土地道:「那魔神通廣大,法術高強,念動真言咒語,拘喚我等在他洞裡,一日一個輪流當值哩。」行者跳将起来,抖抖土,束束裙,耳后掣出棒来,叫山神、土地:「都伸过孤拐来,每人先打两下,与老孙散散闷。」众神大惊道:「刚才大圣已吩咐,恕我等之罪,怎么出来就变了言语要打?」行者道:「好土地,好山神,你道不怕老孙,却怕妖怪?」土地道:「那魔神通广大,法术高强,念动真言咒语,拘唤我等在他洞里,一日一个轮流当值哩。」
逐句解 Line by line
Pilgrim sprang up, shook off the dirt, tightened his kilt, drew the cudgel from behind his ear, and called to the mountain-god and earth-god: "All of you, stick out your ankle-bones — two strokes apiece, to help old Monkey work off his gloom."
跳將起來 (tiào jiāng qǐ lái), "sprang up," 將 the particle of motion. 孤拐 (gū guǎi) is the ankle-bone, and holding one out for a beating is a schoolroom image, which is the joke. 散散悶 (sàn sàn mèn), "to work off a bit of gloom" -- the reduplication makes it sound like a stroll.
The gods, aghast, said: "Just now the Great Sage promised to pardon our offense — how is it that the moment he's out, his words change and he means to beat us?"
剛才 (gāng cái), "only a moment ago." 變了言語 (biàn le yán yǔ), "changed his words" -- which is precisely what he has done, and the gods' outrage at it is entirely justified and entirely futile.
Pilgrim said: "Fine earth-god, fine mountain-god! You mean to say you don't fear old Monkey, but you fear the demon?"
好土地,好山神 (hǎo tǔ dì, hǎo shān shén), "fine earth god, fine mountain god" -- sarcasm, and the same construction as the storyteller's admiring 好行者, turned sour. The grievance underneath is real: they feared a demon enough to obey him and do not fear the Great Sage at all.
The earth-god said: "That fiend's powers are vast and his arts formidable; he chants his spells and summons us into his cave, where one of us must stand duty by turns, a day at a time."
拘喚 (jū huàn), "to summon by compulsion" -- the word for a magistrate hauling in a witness, used here of a demon and two gods. 輪流當值 (lún liú dāng zhí), "to take turns on duty," 當 read dāng. They are on a rota. The 哩 (li) makes it sound as weary as it is.
Freed, Pilgrim reverts to type inside a sentence: up on his feet, dust shaken off, cudgel out, ankles please, two strokes each to work off the gloom. It is pure comedy of character. He promised not to hit them, and the promise lasts exactly as long as the mountains did. The gods' scandalised protest at the change of tune only improves it.
But the grievance underneath is real, and it is not about him. What offends Pilgrim is that these gods feared a demon enough to crush the Great Sage at his word, and do not fear the Great Sage at all. The earth god's answer -- the fiend compels them by spell to take turns on duty in his cave -- supplies the detail that will sting hardest, and sets up the outcry to Heaven that follows.