Looking forward to the next venture from Grin-07, I must admit. I know he comes from a talented family line of running businesses and appreciation societies. 

Anything I can help out with, I'd be happy to help (as long as Nipper allows me out of the HQ for more than 10 minutes) 

This isn't a sign-up sheet, Rick_Dalton. Beat it. This is the place where I reward the undeserving with my hard earned credits for being a VIP superstar, or at least I did back in the glory days. Now I pretty much lament the fact that I've become obsolete. I'm a drawing on a cave wall and the list has decided to encompass fine art for the first time. 

With that said, the green shoots of recovery are beginning to infiltrate the cold hard earth of the VIP list and a casual observer may record that I, Grin-07 have actually become Grin-#06 whilst Zapata, continues to battle Chalk for the quickest fall from grace in recent memory. This pleases me, I admit. For that reason, I've planted a reward for you too. What a nice guy I am. 

#12 and barely hanging on. Zapata's lackeys could hardly look him in the eye these days, their heads hung so low in shame. He was barely bourgeois. Low-ball offers from odious corporate interests looking to pave over his Tuscan villa on Lake Destro with another banal extension to the business district had started to flood into his mailbox. All this area for speeches and discussion, the suits had muttered scornfully, while we could be enjoying waiting days, even weeks at a time, for a bartender to reply to our martini order in some thrown together basement of cliches, small talk cutting through a musk so thick and visible that every movement felt like wading through the shallow end of a swimming pool. 

His long, thick mustache quivered gently in the wind flowing up from the lake to his balcony, where he stood deep in thought over the story of Chateau Capone; once the seat of luxury in these parts, enormous and ever-expanding, until Monseigneur Capone's credit trough had dried up and left him sickly and destitute, his estate in disrepair. How could a man so brilliant fall into such ruin? A man of such wealth, wit and wisdom?

"The Gangster's Handbook was as close to a Bible as anyone has come in 3400 years...", Zapata said outloud to himself. Capone, of course, would have never had to worry about being a pathetic #12. Down by the shore, Zapata's men pulled in lobster cages filled with quarter and half credits once lost to the mud of the lake bed. It was a start. 

Tumultuous days in the VIP Credit Garden of Eden as 64 day young upstart, Grin-07 climbs to #2 in the reckoning. In doing so he was emulating the achievements of 64 day veteran Grin-07, fondly remembered for his extensive tenure as the Consigliere of VIP God before he vanished in obscurity. Eventually, 07 settled into a healthy #4 ranking behind content-giants, Taiga and Matt_Murdock.

Green shoots of recovery were threatened to be derailed by ominous figures stalking Grin-07. Bedecked in plague masks, too-short hooded robes, cycling shorts and sandals with white socks, they were the servants of a dark entity, dressed in their sacred regalia, concerned with appeasing their master's hunger for vast amounts of cash bring wasted. His latest offering, a honey-roasted $20,000,000 snack served in a Don Grin-07 and Portobello mushroom ragu, had left him salivating for more. Perhaps $15,000,000 baked Zapata fritters topped with parmesan cheese would sate his ravenous appetite? Or just a little $5,000,000 touch of halloumi Hawk fries to take the edge off?

The crow people were odd to Grin-07, but he had battled with superheroes, werewolves and offensively loud queefs; the threat to his restored position would need to be addressed lest he fall beyond recognition again. 

Oh and here's a credit, scroungers. 

Nipples stands in the VIP Credit Garden looking up towards the sky with his hands held out, waiting for gifts to rain down from up above, but alas, it never happens, because the VIP Credit Robin Hood is not looking down from the heavens, but instead his corpse is rotting at the bottom of the river, probably getting ass raped by a giant catfish...

"It disgusts me what you goons did to this wonderful, generous man.  He wanted only to give and to spread wealth and happiness. Your hatred of all things good took that from us. For almost two months I have had to procure my own credits. It's fucking appalling."

Spits at the ground and walks off grumbling about something or other...