Just try to imagine what it must be like for Tucanopener. It's been years since they last found a can that was even remotely interested in being opened by them.
Quite some time ago, long before they were born, they would have been a can-magnet. So much stuff came in cans back then. Juicy peaches, exotic pineapples, or just sweet condensed milk. And all of those cans were looking for a strong appliance that could just open up their hearts for a joyful, delicious, meal. It was simpler times, where cans could focus on carrying food inside and can openers were heroes. Those times are gone.
Today, most cans come with these little latches, so they can just be opened on their own, without any help from a can opener. They are strong, independent, cans that have liberated themselves. They are celebrated as the cans of the future. Old style cans are still around, but they are considered weak and inferior and their numbers are rapidly decreasing. At least they are still cans, though, so they remain relevant. But who cares about the can opener? Tucanopener is a relic of the past. An evolutionary dead end. They are doomed to die alone, somewhere in a drawer.
They're not just forgotten, they're exiled. Shunned. They symbolize the old system, where cans would be always in the mercy of a can opener. They could have had the most delicious contents, but it wouldn't matter if the can opener didn't allow them to give it up. It's a better world, now that cans have the autonomy to serve their contents independently. They're finally free from the tyranny that Tucanopener symbolizes, though they never lived it and it was never their fault.
Tucanopener never decided they wanted to be born this way. Yet, they'll die for it. Alone.
