Taco donnie, Owner

Taco Donnie is the proud yet deeply confused founder of Taco Donnie™, a fast-food franchise he started after mistaking a food truck for a campaign rally. Despite branding himself as a "culinary visionary," Donnie has never successfully made a taco, largely because his comically tiny hands can’t hold one without it falling apart - a fact that fuels his deep, irrational hatred of tacos in general. He prefers burgers, mostly because they "stack vertically like buildings," which he claims he invented. Widely regarded as a liability by his own staff, Donnie insists on taste-testing items with his eyes closed and once attempted to deep-fry a paper receipt because he thought it was "edible marketing." Under his chaotic leadership, the chain has become infamous for flavorless food, unhinged slogans, and lawsuits filed by former employees, customers, and the FDA. He remains blissfully unaware of all of it while proudly proclaiming Taco Donnie™ is "the number one taco restaurant for people who don’t like tacos."

O.K. Good Vanse, Burger Boy

O.K. Good Vanse is the assistant night shift manager of Taco Donnie™, though no one’s entirely sure who hired him or why he’s still here. Standing at an imposing 6’3” but carrying the demeanor of a frightened intern, Vanse was promoted after being the only employee too scared to make eye contact with Donnie - a quality Donnie interpreted as "unshakable respect." O.K.’s primary responsibilities include nodding silently, blinking rapidly, and holding receipts like they’re radioactive. Known for his thousand-yard stare and uncanny ability to freeze mid-sentence, Vanse can often be found behind the counter, paralyzed by the pressure of a single customer asking what comes in the Covfefe Crunchwrap. He has never eaten at Taco Donnie™, citing "digestive concerns," but remains committed to the company, probably out of fear or inertia.

Janitor Steve

Janitor Steve joined Taco Donnie™ after being asked to leave five separate think tanks for being "a little too into it." Now armed with a mop, a blank stare, and a deeply unsettling aura, Steve insists his job title is "Sanitation Strategist" and refers to the supply closet as "The Bunker." He does not clean so much as haunt the premises, emerging at odd hours to mutter about "order" and "the decay of modern sauces." Steve once tried to ban all condiments after declaring ketchup "too woke," and his attempt to replace the hand soap with sand "for grit" resulted in a class-action rash. He communicates primarily through memos written in red Sharpie and has been caught polishing the floor vents while whispering, "The ventilation must remain pure." No one knows where he lives. But he always shows up, uninvited, unblinking, and somehow... already damp.

Karen Leavitt-Alone, Greeter

Karen Leavitt-Alone is the greeter at Taco Donnie™, though her primary function appears to be shouting at minimum wage employees and smiling while doing it. With a voice sharp enough to cut queso and a smirk that can curdle cream, Karen Leavitt-Alone rose through the company ranks by insisting that every customer complaint was actually a personal attack on the brand. She once held a press conference in the parking lot over a missing napkin and declared it a "coordinated smear campaign." Karen insists she’s "just asking questions," but those questions are always shouted, recorded vertically, and end with threats of legal action. Her signature move is appearing out of nowhere when someone mentions unions, and her favorite phrase is, "What a stupid order." No one has ever seen her eat the food. She claims to be gluten-free, dairy-free, spice-free, and joy-free.

Robert F. Kreepy Jr., Health & Food Safety

Robert F. Kreepy Jr. is the self-appointed Head of Health Science and Deep Fryer Radiation Studies at Taco Donnie, a position he invented during orientation and has somehow retained. Known around the store as "the whispering guy with the worm," Kreepy speaks in long, gravelly, winding sentences that begin as dietary advice and end in conspiracy. He refuses to wear gloves, citing a personal belief that "skin contact is part of the curing process," and once held up the lunch rush to warn customers about the secret chemicals in fountain soda - while drinking three of them. Most employees avoid eye contact, especially after he installed copper wire around the salad bar and claimed it was to "redirect brain fog." His uniform is clean but always appears to be wriggling, and despite numerous complaints, Donnie insists he's "an ideas man".