Shia LaBeouf squats behind an industrial grade trashcan in the back of a dank alley. Below home, a fresh crap, still warm, dolloped onto a slab of crumpled plastic and metal, the tangible ghost of a Nintendo Wii.

This is a night you laugh at during cocktail parties a decade later or devote a paragraph to in your memoir, but here, now, the humor is wasted on the two of us. The pungent smell of sweat and shit is too much to muster a laugh or a grin; I can only manage a humiliated frown, which sticks to my face like clown makeup.

How did we get here?

LaBeouf and I had convened earlier that night for drinks. The young actor, a long-time fan of Hardcasual, candidly dished about behind-the-scenes shenanigans on his latest film, Transformers: Rise of the Fallen. But LaBeouf, an otherwise genial young-man with a passion for toilet lid artistry, got salty when conversation turned to Boom Blox.

“I told Steven [Spielberg] I refuse to do another Indy until he quits that childish shit,” says LaBeouf. I chortle, thinking this must be a joke, but LaBeouf continues, “You wanna know how the hardcore play Boom Blox? Real explosives. City blocks.”

LaBeouf catches himself. He’s drawing attention. A few patrons at the bar, noticeably put off, make their exit. We talk about movies, music, anything else. We have another drink. And another. He orders scotch and then whiskey and then tequila. He’s dropping shots of vodka into carafes of the house wine and chugging.

“I tell ya. The Wii sure does stink, right? Who’s with me?” asks a plastered LaBeouf to no one in particular. The late night bar flies and I don’t respond, wishing this conversation hadn’t reared back its ugly head. LaBeouf swallows a mouthful of vomit as he stumbles to his feet. “I gotta shit,” he mumbles, making his way outside.

And we’re at the scene of the crime. LaBeouf yanks a brand new Wii out of his satchel and tosses it on the wet cement. A homeless man watches from a couple yards away. I tell LaBeouf I’ll take him home, but he bats away my hand. He begins to cry.

“This… this system. I…. I hate it so…so much.” says LaBeouf. “Why didn’t it ever come home from that trip to  buy cigarettes? The… the other kids always had a….had a Wii around for, hrmph, for Christmas.”

“It’s ok, Shia,” I say.

Shia looks up at me, eyes full of tears, “I hate my father.”