(Let me just say, in my defense, this story takes place in the entrepreneurial ’80s.)
On my 6th birthday I received as a present a set of watercolors. My parents and their friends got to celebrate this auspicious occasion by breaking out bottles of FANTA. For a 6 year old, FANTA, the magic drink, would have been the preferred choice for a present, but alas I was not consulted on the gift giving. 
The neighboring kids, snooping as good soviet patriots did, got this idea that I was suddenly rich in Fanta- even though I hadn’t even had a chance to drink one. The adults took care to drink them all down to the last drop. The kids didn’t believe me when I protested the existance of any FANTA.
So…what was a girl to do?
Where there is demand, there is profit to be made. (future capitalist in action)
And so I got to work. I gathered the empty Fanta bottles, grabbed my sister and made haste with some paint and water.
To be fair, my sister was, as usual, an unwitting accomplice. I told her we were making pretty colors and nothing more. And boy did those “Fantas” look colorful! Better than the real thing.
I would have gotten away with it too if it wasn’t for those pesky health issues my customers got once they drank the fake Fantas. Words such as ‘poison’, ‘ambulance’ and ‘criminal’ were used.
And back to the corner I went. Ahh, the good old ’80s.
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