The first thing you notice when you walk into DJz Web Zone is the distinct scent of cinnamon rolls. In front of you--a void of black. Behind you, no door.

You see rows and rows of endless "merchandise": band shirts, spiked collars, hair dye, CDs, mp3 players, stickers, jackets, flannels, ripped jeans, body glitter. Everything is priced, but nothing is for sale. This is all yours.

You walk through the aisles as if in a trance. The further you go, the deeper you trek, the harder it is to remember what you came in here for. The music is in your veins. The music is in your soul.

Past stacks of old computers and copies of Tony Hawk Pro Skaters 1 & 2, you find a clearing upholstered with satiny-pink material. An old lacy couch lies off to the side, cozily nested in-between bead curtains and lava lamps the size of trees. There's a laptop open on the table. Will you look at its contents?

Welcome... to DJz Web Zone.