Man Clones Self, Sui-Homicide Ensues

From the latest editon of the Not-Gonna-Happen Weekly:

Local busybody and chronic over-thinker (name withheld) was found dead twice in his home yesterday; after neighbors reported sounds of a heated argument.

A third incarnation of the deceaseds, clearly shaken by the experience, had this to say:
"It seemed like such a good idea at the time... I figure I'd brew up a few copies of myself and divy out the things I've been working on. Try to catch a break, you know? How was I supposed to know I'm not supposed to play God?"

The first clone (clearly identified by a tattooed #1 on his arm) had been created from a do-it-yourself kit ordered through the mail, with the intent of taking over Acting and Voice-Over responsibilities. The second clone (suspiciously lacking a #2 marking) was issued any and all writing responsibilities.

"It worked so well in the movies. But nooo. Number Two got a bad case of writer's block, while Number One sat around looking moony-eyed, writing bad poetry. We/I missed a rehearsal and then fought over who got to use the computer. It was ridiculous."

The supposed original went on to explain that a heated argument broke out between the copies when the time came to go out with the trio's girlfriend.

"I've known her a long time, and believe me, she doesn't swing that way. Neither do I, point of fact. Least not with other guys. I don't care if they're me or not."

The growing tension finally erupted in an all-out melee when the clones both confessed they wanted to do everything themselves. "You'd think I/they would have learned to share, but no. They were determined to burn that damn candle at both ends. Both of 'em. When am I going to learn?"

The surviving party looks forward to collecting on his own life insurance; with which he will bankroll future endeavors of a similar nature.

"But first things first. I have to get a tattoo removed. Um. It's... uh... it's the name of an old flame. Yeah. that's it. By no means is it a numeral two."