Loki had a quirky tendency to visit the island when he was drunk. It didn't happen often. Unlike Thor and his comrades, he hadn't much use for drinking until he spewed forth his dinner and then sleeping in a puddle of his own vomit, awaking with a splitting headache and a dim memory of having done stupid things the night before. Loki far preferred to be the only sober one present. It meant he was capable of steering everyone else into some truly remarkable bits of mischief and actually remembering ever deliciously embarrassing misstep the next day. Even a little blackmail or bribery might end up as an option if he were lucky.
However, on those rare occasions when he did indulge too much, perhaps once every hundred or so years, he would sometimes pop over to wherever the island had chosen to situate itself for the time being. Then, he would play.
Time didn't move in a steady stream there, which he found particularly hilarious while drunk. His first time there, he found a group of Egyptians planning a huge statue of Taweret, which was odd enough as the island was currently off the cost of California. Snickering so hard he could barely remain upright, he appeared before them in all his glory, prompting the workers to collapse forward, bowing and scraping. That was enough to make him decide he rather liked this place.
"This statue," he ordered, managing to slur his words only slightly, "is to have, ehm, let me think… six toes on each foot!"
"Six?" one of the builders asked, looking completely baffled.
"Why, does that sound stupid?" Loki asked, leaning forward and frowning, genuinely concerned. "Is four better? Yes, yes, four is so much better. Make it four instead, or you shall risk my wrath!"
They groveled, which he reveled in, and then he teleported to Las Vegas and woke in the morning with a tattoo of a hippo on his right thigh and a half-eaten platter of bacon lying on his stomach.
His next visit to that realm landed him beside a group of Dharma Initiative planners. He carefully made himself invisible and looked at their plans, though he was so drunk it was a wonder he could read them at all. Currently, they seemed to be listing animals under consideration for a zoo. He decided that he needed to have input in this. Mentally going through a list of Midgardian animals, he considered all the ones he could remember, but that wasn't many in his current state. He knew they had horses, octopi, and bears. And possibly tribbles, but he wasn't entirely certain of that. Picking up a pen, he added the words "You must include bears." He stared at this, then decided the idiot humans needed more direction as they had too many kinds of bears altogether. "Polar bears," he added, underlining it three times and using more exclamation points then necessary. He swayed on the spot, then added "No boa constrictors" and passed out in a corner where, still invisible, he remained for a day and a half without being found. He was eventually awakened when a Dharma-brand container of floor wax fell off a custodian's cart and conked him on the head.
A few years later, a completely smashed Loki returned to the island, and, just because he felt like it, he created an enormous electromagnet underneath it. He didn't know why; it just seemed like a hilarious idea at the time, and magnets were always good fun. Then he passed out again.
Not too long after, he went on a truly spectacular binge, drinking his mother's mead on his birthday. This time, he towed Thor along with him, who was equally inebriated. For some inexplicable reason, Loki had also insisted that a stable hand that neither of them knew needed to accompany them.
"What is this place?" Thor asked, wrinkling his nose.
"It's weird is what it is," Loki said importantly, swaying on the spot. "And it needs some more of that. Lars!"
"Yes," the stable hand said carefully. He was completely sober and feeling very nervous as he'd never even spoken to either prince before. Also, his name was Johan, not Lars, but he wasn't about to mention that.
"Good, you're still here," Loki said blearily. "For a moment I thought I'd turned you into a palm tree. But I wouldn't do that to you, dear, dear Lars. You're the only one who understands me. Regardless, how many horses are currently in the royal stable?"
"Forty-two, Prince Loki," he said.
"Good, good," Loki said, writing the number down with an orange crayon on a slip of paper he'd just pulled from a pocket universe. "And your birthday, what might that be?"
"The fourth of August," Johan said.
"Indeed! Yes, now, do you have children?" Loki asked, continuing to jot things down.
"I have a young son. He's fifteen, no, wait, he turned sixteen last week," Johan said.
"Fine, fine, fifteen," Loki said, then frowning he said, "no, sixteen. No, no, we need to be very careful. Just in case, both."
"Always better to have both," Thor agreed, then belched.
"Always," Loki agreed, then he leaned forward and grabbed Johan around the shoulders, lowering his voice as though he were entrusting him with national secrets. "Now, this is the most important thing of all, Lars."
Johan regarded him intensely. Loki leaned in even closer.
"What is the first prime number that can't be counted on your fingers and toes?" Loki asked in a whisper. "Provided you have five toes to a foot. Not four. Or six."
"I'm not a mathematical man," Johan said, trying to edge away, not least of all because Loki's breath was so strong it qualified as flammable. "I mostly clean up the horse dung."
Loki let go of him in disgust, then turned to Thor.
"I remember this," Thor said, wrinkling his face with the effort of trying to bring up the information. "It's… purple! No, wait, it's Leif Erikson! No, that's not it."
"Twenty-three!" Loki suddenly shouted in exultation. "I've remembered! Twenty-three!"
"That's very, very important. Write that down," Thor urged him.
"I am, obviously, you oaf," Loki said. "There now. We have 42, 4, 8, 15, 16, and 23. Better put the 42 at the end so it's in order."
"Must be in order," Thor muttered. "Order, order, order."
"True," Loki said. "Very true, you barbaric buffoon. Now, all I have to do is put the numbers here and there and everywhere, and everything will fall into place."
"What will fall into place?" Thor asked.
"Everything," Loki assured him. "You're drunk. You don't understand. Lars does, though, don't you Lars."
"Yes?" Johan asked, not understanding anything.
"Fine, fine," Loki said. "Compass points, serial numbers, lottery numbers, football jerseys, radio transmissions… good. All good. Or bad. Or something."
"May I go back to the stables now, sirs?" Johan asked. "The horses will be getting hungry."
"Yes," Loki said, "we'd better. But Lars?"
"Yes?"
"Not a word of this to the horses, mind. They're known to gossip."
"No, sir."
"Good man."
The next morning, Loki woke up in a horse stall, Thor found himself sleeping in the water trough, and Johan was relieved to realize neither of them remembered the outing at all.
Loki did sometimes remember bits of his time on the island, though they were scrambled. At one point he showed up just in time to keep a man on the mainland from dying when he was thrown out a window by his father. At another, he decided to encase a giant wheel in ice simply because he had always been unusually adept with frost spells and rather liked the effect. A few times he just fell asleep under a tree and woke up to an annoying black smoke thing hovering over him, which he waved off with a few simple wards. Eventually, he shot a spell after it to keep it from sneaking up on him again, making it clank and clatter loud enough to wake him in the future regardless of how much mead he'd drunk.
One day, while he was completely sober, Loki teleported to the island just to figure out what exactly he'd managed to create there. No sooner had he arrived than a Labrador Retriever came running out of the jungle straight at him. Loki took a step back, but it only sat down and looked up at him, tilting its head expectantly. Deciding he might as well have a bit of harmless fun for once so that he could say he'd actually tried it, he found a piece of driftwood on the beach. He threw it, and the dog chased after it and carried it back to him. It really was rather amusing. They played fetch for about half an hour, then Loki sat on the beach and stared at the gigantic four-toed foot that remained from the statue. The dog stayed beside him.
"I must have been spectacularly drunk that time. Honestly, none of this makes any sense at all," Loki said to the dog, scratching him behind the ears, then disappeared.
"That's exactly what I've been saying this whole time," the dog said, then trotted back into the jungle.