Seymour Is Out Of Control

I swear, I turn my back for five minutes and Seymour drinks the last of my bourbon, smokes a fattie and chokes down some peyote he found somewhere. Next thing I know, he is molesting people on the beach. I totally blame Rachel. She was supposed to be watching him while I went on vacation, but somehow he stowed away in my bag and apparently had the time of his life. I had to take him for shots the next day and he hasn't been the same sock since. Anybody want to adopt a sock?