Throw the koekje, cupcake at a pigeon sitting on a pole nearby startiling it, hope the russian man is a animal lover who will rush over to help the stunned bird who thinking the man is the one who assaulted him fly into his face screeching and clawing at his eyes. His wife will start to rush over to help him, trip over a random bannana peel, fall and stab herslf through the hart-, hart with her mes killing her instantly while her husband, whose eyes have been gouged out slowly dies from blood loss. I'd befried the bird, name him Mr. Tweetums and make us both cupcakes. The end.
Whips out a bottle of insidious explosive whip cream, seemingly harmless yet dangerous enough to blow up all of Russia, sprays it on the cupcake, throws it at the Russian guy and his wife, runs away singing "Friday", a song terrible enough to block out the noise of an explosion, while he and his fatass wodka wife blow up. THE END. OH SHIT. WHERE DID MY koekje, cupcake GO? NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO...........!