Editor’s note: This story appeared as part of The Pitt News 2007 April Fools’ edition. It is… Editor’s note: This story appeared as part of The Pitt News 2007 April Fools’ edition. It is a work of fiction produced solely for entertainment value.

Pitt student John Doe was beside himself yesterday. Literally.

“I should never have stolen my friend’s key to the biology lab,” Doe said as he watched a perfect double of himself rummage through his refrigerator. The double stopped to look at a half-empty carton of Chinese food before continuing his culinary quest.

What began as a not-so-innocent ploy to make someone else do his work for him ended with Doe learning a lesson about himself.

“I must be lazy,” Doe said. “If this is my clone, then I must be a freakin’ train wreck.” He watched his clone as it took a bottle of whipped cream and sprayed it directly into his mouth.

“A freakin’ train wreck,” Doe repeated.

Doe came up with the idea after reading some old Calvin and Hobbes comics. He didn’t have a lot of schoolwork to begin with, but he decided that having a double would free him from even the most basic of school responsibilities.

He knew that his roommate had been working on gene sequencing and molecular genetics, so he hoped that by turning various knobs and drinking from various beakers he could get the desired result. But what he found was even simpler.

“It was just a telephone booth labeled ‘Clone-o-Matic’ – how much easier could it get?” Doe said. “So I stepped in and turned the knob and got my very own clone.”

But everything went downhill from there.

“He wouldn’t go to any of my classes or do any of my work,” Doe said as his clone began to play “Gears of War” on Doe’s Xbox 360. “Not that I had done any of that, but I mean, he’s my clone, he should do what I say.”

“And he eats like a pig. I mean, I don’t do that,” Doe said as he looked uncertainly at his video-stimulated simulacrum.

At that comment, John Doe 2 got up and pointed to Doe.

“How do you know that you’re not the clone?” he asked.

“Because I’m not a f—ing moron!” Doe yelled.

The two began to fight, knocking over chairs and careening off of the dorm furniture until Doe’s roommate walked in.

“Help me,” both Does yelled simultaneously.

“I can’t tell them apart,” the roommate said as he leveled a gun at the fighting pair. “Which one do I shoot?”

The roommate closed his eyes and squeezed the trigger, shooting