Jeff Goldblum and Johnny Depp are stuck in Cabin in a Snowstorm and forced to have a deep conversation.

Jeff Goldblum: So, Johnny, this cabin...it's got a certain... *gestures wildly* ...rustic impermanence, doesn't it? Almost like life itself, you know? Precarious.

Johnny Depp: (Eyes narrowed, puffing on an imaginary cigarette) Impermanence, yes...like a fleeting tattoo on the soul. A whisper lost in the blizzard.

Jeff Goldblum: Precisely! And the snow, this... *shudders dramatically* ...unending blanket, a reminder of all the things we can't control, the chaos humming beneath the surface of existence.

Johnny Depp: Chaos...ah, my dear Jeff, chaos is the spice that flavors the rum, the wild current that guides the Black Pearl.

Jeff Goldblum: But is that chaos inherently *good*, Johnny? Or is it just... *leans in conspiratorially* ...inevitable? A cosmic shrug?

Johnny Depp: Good and evil, they're just costumes, darling. It's the performance that matters, the dance we do on the edge of the abyss.

Jeff Goldblum: A dance...yes! But what's the music, Johnny? Is it the howling wind, the creaking timbers, or something... *taps his chest* ...deeper within?

Johnny Depp: The music, my friend, is the echo of our own heartbeats, distorted by the storm, yet still, undeniably, *ours*.

Jeff Goldblum: So, even in this... *sweeps his arm around the cramped cabin* ...frozen purgatory, we find... meaning?

Johnny Depp: Meaning, Jeff, is what we choose to paint onto the canvas of the void. Now, about that rum...