I am what you clean off your filter, the collection of contaminants in the air. You may have trouble removing me from between short little hairs.

You can use me to doodle your dreams, or riddle your enemy as he screams Don’t bury me when you write a tale, but take me when helping a group not to fail They say get me out when you’re in a rush, if I get in your system then you’ll need a flush

My first part can be anything fun and amusing; my last means to lease, or allow. My whole is a room where some Rest and some Go, which you likely will visit alone, Or it could be a seat, if you're being discreet; some people call it a throne.

I may be small and sliced in circles. Or perhaps you prefer me as a spear. Either way, I’m kind of a big dill. What am I?

My first three is black and white, with red inside. My last four can toll the hour. Together, more of me is the only prescription for a fever.